Echoes In The Dark
by Tear Of A Clown
Summary: Sometimes the heart knows what the eyes can't see. AU
1. The Promise

For y'all who don't have twitter, this is my final full fic. I just don't have the time anymore, but this story line has been planned since before _Blue Velvet, _so i just need to get it out there. That said, i will be doing a short one shot spin off of _I'm The Wrong That You Like_ in December, just the four of them coming together for the first time. in the meantime, i hope you enjoy this fic.

Oh and kisses to _more mio_ Leigh, who has made cover images for every one of my fics, this one included.

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**Chapter 1**

"Get out," Brendan ordered in a faux nonchalant voice.

It wasn't so much that the man in front of him terrified him or anything, despite his constant vomiting of threats. It was more that this guy's very presence felt like someone was stroking Brendan's eyeballs with a fucking cactus. He was aggravating in his need to appear like a frightening man, he overdid the empty threats, and shit you not, he smelt like he bathed in expensive aftershave just to prove that he could afford it.

"Brendan, you're either with me or you're against me." Kyle – his name was Kyle – sneered, as one last attempt to get Brendan in on whatever clusterfuck worth of trouble he was getting into.

"I'm not against you, Kyle," Brendan groaned a little as his bones resisted when he started to get up off his office chair. "I don't care enough about you to be against you. Being against you is like being against low fat yoghurt – purposeless, each to their own."

Brendan grabbed the other man by the back of his neck in a hard enough grip that Kyle hunched up at the contact, bringing up his shoulders into a defensive position. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead dragged the man to the door, and using the hand that wasn't holding on to Kyle, he wrenched the door open and shoved him out. Just when the Godfather wannabe turned around and opened his mouth in preparation to say something else inane, Brendan slammed the door shut in his face.

Shaking his head, Brendan made his way back to his desk and started to work on his mountain of paperwork. He spent the last week organising a part leaving, part congratulations on getting up the duff party for his sister. His actual work had suffered as a consequence, and now he was going to have a stroke in trying to get everything done by the weekend.

He just got the first manila folder in front of him and was ready to start work on it when there was a large crash outside, followed by the explosion of Kyle's wrath. Brendan could've left it, he could've ignored the retard screaming at whoever for pouring salsa sauce down the front of his suit; the man probably smelled better now. But something didn't sit right with Brendan, because whoever Kyle was screaming at didn't even get to have a chance to apologise or say anything in defence.

Brendan sighed and got up off his chair before making way out of his office. When he had opened the door before to chuck Kyle out, he hadn't noticed the transformation of his club. The place looked like a freaking ice palace with white and silver and fairy lights wrapped around fake pillars. It looked incredible and Cheryl was going to squeeze the life out of him in joy when she saw him. She had always wanted to go to a winter ball, be the centre of attention.

With all its beauty, Brendan's attention was drawn away from it to the ugly scene of Kyle berating a young man, probably in his early twenties, late teens. The kid was wearing the waiter's outfit for the night, a different one to the black pants and shirt that Tony's staff normally wore. This outfit was grey fitted slacks with a white shirt, grey waistcoat and duck egg blue bow tie. It was supposed to go with the theme of the party, Brendan thought it just made the boy look like he was younger than he probably was.

The kid was opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to say something, but Kyle wasn't shutting up, so instead he looked a little bit like a bobbing fish. Kyle's back was to Brendan, therefore, the young waiter was facing him, allowing him to see the startling baby blue of his eyes. And they were directly staring at Brendan, even as he tried to talk, apologise to Kyle.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking invalid," Kyle screamed into the kid's face. "Are you fucking blind, there is literally a wide open space here and you bump into me, you piece of shit…."

Kyle went on and on, until something clicked with Brendan. The boy _wasn't_ staring at him. The boy wasn't staring at anyone.

Shit.

"Kyle," Brendan barked, stepping closer to the scene, careful to avoid the spilled salsa sauce on the floor. "The waiter is my staff for the evening, he's my responsibility, I'll pay for your damn dry cleaning."

"Maybe you should hire more competent staff." Kyle remarked, his face drawn into a frown.

"You're right. I'll start with the doorman, one that can keep the trash out."

Kyle grumbled something under his breath before turning back to face the young waiter. He gave the kid what Brendan assumed was supposed to be a threatening look, but the lad seemed unfazed, now staring at a space between the two older men. Brendan pressed his hand against Kyle's back successfully getting him to move on and leave, just as the waiter pulled out several napkins and fell to the floor to clean up the mess.

Brendan scratched to back of his neck not sure how to approach the topic of what had just happened to the lad without offending him. Instead, he grabbed a handful of napkins himself and crouched down, so he wasn't looming over the young man. He started to help in the cleanup, all the while ignoring the awkwardness in the air. Just when he thought he could silently crawl away to his office without the kid's notice, the waiter broke the silence.

"You can ask if you want," the lad said, standing back up with dirty tissues in his hand.

Brendan knew he shouldn't stare, even if the waiter couldn't tell, but he was a little entranced in the way the boy moved. He kept one hand out on the bar-top, gliding his fingertips across it as he walked around it to the big bin behind the bar. His movement was more eloquent than anything Brendan had ever seen, bending around the obstacles that lay in front of him in a manner that would envy liquid.

"You may think I can't see you stare, but I can feel your gaze piercing into me." The boy sounded annoyed as he wiped his hand on a dishcloth. "I'd be less offended if you just asked me whatever it is that you want to know."

Brendan sighed and sat down on a stool on a stool, opposite the kid as he chucked the dirty napkins across the bar, and slam dunk into the bin. "I feel like there is something I wanna ask, but I'm not sure what."

The blue eyed boy's eyes were somewhere past Brendan's shoulders, but he knew he had the kid's full attention. He stayed like that for a while, and then a blinding smiled ripped across his face. "Well, at least you're honest. Sometimes people just get curious, but they're not sure what it is that's so fascinating."

"I'm Br –" Brendan started, because there was only a certain quota of rudeness that Brendan could express, and staring when he shouldn't for an undetermined amount of time had used it all up.

"You're Brady. Well, that's not your first name, but that's how you answer the phone, so we call you that and laugh about it behind your back." The kid smirked and pulled out a whiskey glass to pour Brendan a drink.

Brendan took it all back. If the kid can be a shit, so can he.

"How do you know my drink if you can't see." Brendan took a sip of his whiskey. He should've been surprised that the waiter got even the brand right, but he was starting to catch on that this waiter probably had more to him than meets the eye.

"When you've been blind for most of your life, your other senses tend to get a lot sharper. You've been at the restaurant a couple of times and every time I clear up after you, your glass smells like Jameson."

Brendan had never noticed the kid before, but then again, Brendan didn't really notice anyone who would not have any direct effect on his life in a long-term sense. But this kid had all his attention now, paperwork be damned. He didn't miss that fact that the waiter said he had been blind for most of his life as opposed to all. But asking someone how they lost their sight probably wasn't something to enquire on a first meeting. And, oh shit, Brendan was thinking about seeing him again.

"If your senses are so keen, how did you bump into Kyle?" Brendan asked instead of 'so how did get blind, were your eyes this blue before you lost your sight or is that a result of some kind of injury?' Yeah, not today. Or ever. "The man walks like he wears elephant feet for boots. Actually, with his desperation to prove his power, he probably does."

The kid smiled and shook his head a little, like he thought Brendan was funny in that way you thought little children were funny because they were so silly. Brendan should've been offended, but a tiny part of him wanted to puff his chest out in pride, because this kid had an amazing smile and Brendan was responsible for it.

"I didn't bump into him, he bumped into me. I was just carrying the sauce to the buffet table when he came storming my way." The waiter made his way round the bar again and walked to the broom closet, explaining that he could feel the stickiness of the ground where the salsa had fallen, so he needed to mop that section. When he got back with the mop and bucket, Brendan was content with just staring at him work.

"If he bumped into you, you should've told him to fuck off." Brendan commented as he continued to watch the boy.

"I tried and failed. The man clearly has to always be in the right, so even if I did say anything, it'd just piss him off more."

"But it's so much fun to piss him off."

"For you. I wouldn't be able to block a punch." The boy said it in such a casual manner that it unnerved Brendan, like he knew this from experience. Who the fuck punched a blind guy? "I have heightened senses, but I'm not freaking Spiderman. I can't feel a punch coming before it does just by the shift in the air movement."

"There I was, thinking I just found myself the next superhero."

The kid grinned at the ground as he continued to mop, "you never know, a superhero will say anything to preserve their identity. Who knows, I might not be blind at all."

Brendan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the young man turned his head towards the spiral staircase that led up to their floor, where another waiter was making his way up with an arm full of plates. He looked between Brendan and the kid, before smiling at the boy and walking to the back room behind the bar.

Brendan twisted around to look back at the blue eyed lad, but when he turned, the waiter was gone, probably in the bathroom if the sound of water running was anything to go by. Brendan resisted the urge to follow him, because it was crazy, he had work to do, this desire to talk to this kid was unfounded and irrational. He got up and locked himself in his office, refusing to look at the door and wonder what the waiter was doing on the other side.

He stayed like that for about another hour until soft music started to seep through the walls and into the office. People must have been turning up to the party, which meant the Brendan would have to get out and play host, and hopefully not get distracted by the molten hips of a certain service staff.

He put away all his papers and grabbed the suit jacket he had left on the back of his chair as soon as he had turned up to work, then made his way back to the club floor. There weren't many people there yet, just the usual suspects who turned up anywhere where there was free booze. Except, even if there were loads of people, Brendan still probably would have been doing what he was doing, which was scan the length of the entire club floor for one person specifically. He couldn't see the lad, though, so instead he approached the firsts of the guest with a smile and his Irish drawl.

After another fifteen minutes, his sister had turned up with her husband, squealing about how the place looked amazing. "Bren, babe, this is so beautiful, I can't even… wow."

"Only the best for my baby sister." Brendan kissed her on the forehead and shook her husband's hand. "Chez, Nate, let me get you guys a drink, whaddya want?"

Taking their requests, Brendan walked behind the bar to get the drinks, telling himself that he wasn't back here to see if he could see the lad from there. He couldn't, and a miniscule part of him was worried that the lad was going to get trampled on in the increasing crowd of people gathering. Which was stupid because the boy had made it nearly his whole life surviving without his sight. Hell, he managed to hold down a job that involved engaging with the public, and he moved more elegantly than a fucking swan.

Back with his sister, Brendan spent the next three hours listening to the plans she had made for the big house, she and Nate were moving to, the plans she had for the baby etcetera, etcetera. Brendan was interested, he was, he definitely wanted to discuss the benefits of water-birth with his bloody sister. But seriously, there was only so much TMI he could handle.

The party had seemed like a great idea back when he came up with it; his sister deserved the best send-off he could give her. However, he forgot that he didn't actually like people. He tolerated the residents of Hollyoaks, he had to, being the owner of a club he actually wanted to be successful, but there was a reason he worked mainly behind the scenes. The reason was people like Mercedes McQueen, who knew he was gay but still felt the need to shove her boobs in his face. As boobs go, they were nice, he guessed, and just because he was gay, he didn't despise women. It was just that she was trying so hard, and he'd rather fuck her brother.

"Jacqui," Brendan called one of his bartenders who happened to be Mercedes' sister. "Get your sister some water while I unclaw her from my arm."

Jacqui snorted and cackled as she turned to abide Brendan, while Rhys came over to take a very drunk McQueen to sit down somewhere far away from him. Rhys held her at arm's length as he walked her away, wary that she'd turn her boobs on him when he only had eyes for Jacqui, who did everything in her power to ignore or insult him. Brendan would put money on it that they'd end up married by the end of the year.

With Mercedes declawed and a frown on his face to ward off any other patron that felt the desire to converse with him, Brendan found a glass of whiskey put in front of him. He brought his phone out to check his organiser for the next day as he told the barman that he hadn't ordered a drink, but the voice that told him he sounded like he needed it, had his head snapping up.

"Where the hell have you been?" Brendan asked before he could stop himself.

"Miss me?" The waiter lifted an expectant eyebrow as a smile played on his lips.

Brendan found himself wondering how the kid styled his hair and generally groomed himself to look as beautiful as he did if he couldn't see his reflection. He didn't dare ask though. Instead, he denied ever thinking about the boy since their interaction. "Just wondering what other trouble you've caused."

"Ha ha," the kid rolled his eyes, and Brendan wanted to say he didn't know blind people could do that, but that would probably have the boy pouring the whiskey over Brendan's face. "Well, in case you have been missing me, I've been working with the food, Tony doesn't like me working where there are a lot of people, he worries."

Brendan made a mental note to hire Tony for functions more often. The man obviously valued his workers, which meant he valued his work.

"Are you a chef?" He asked when the lad looked like he was ready to leave Brendan to it.

"No, Tony lets me do a bit of everything, but I know the setup of the restaurant well enough to mainly waiter. I don't with this place's floor-plan very well, so he kept me in the back to avoid me getting hurt."

Brendan was pretty sure that Tony was probably just being a little overprotective. He had seen the way the boy moved, and his hands were always out to make sure the space around him was safe to venture. But, he guessed people were unpredictable, and there were probably more Kyle-like individuals about who would knock into him then deflect the blame.

"Well, the foods great," Brendan said when he couldn't think of anything else to say, but didn't want to stop talking to the lad.

"Thanks," Blue eyes twinkled back at Brendan and a pang of sadness filled the older man up. This kid's eyes were so beautiful, yet he couldn't use them to see any beauty the world had to offer. It didn't seem fair. The kid didn't seem too bothered though, "It had nothing to do with me though, in case you just said that to butter me up."

"Why would I wanna do that?"

The lad shrugged knowingly and it made Brendan laugh.

"I was trying to butter you up a little bit, but the food is good too."

The kid laughed and it was so soulful that Brendan wanted to do it again, but instead he had a napkin thrown at his face as the waiter walked away, back into the food prep room. He would've called for the boy to come back, but when he opened his mouth he realised that with all the questions he asked, he didn't ask the most important thing. He didn't ask for the kid's name.

After a few more hours and Nate had taken a very tired Cheryl home, everyone else started clearing up too. He hadn't seen the kid again, and he didn't want to go in the food room like a desperado, so instead he hovered around the bar. Like a desperado. He was beginning to think that he had probably missed him when the door swung open and the kid walked out with his coat on and a scarf wrapped around his neck. If the boy sensed Brendan there, he chose to ignore him, opting to swiftly round the bar and head for the spiral staircase, a white cane in his hand. It was the first time Brendan saw him use it, but he guessed outside was a little more unpredictable than indoors.

"I didn't get your name," Brendan suddenly spoke, because yeah, startling a blind guy was the way to go.

"Whaaaa?" The boy jumped a little and turned around to the sound of Brendan's voice. "Shit, you were being creepy quiet." He held a hand to his chest and frowned in Brendan's direction… mostly his direction.

"Sorry, I thought you probably could feel my presence."

"Nope, not this time." He put his hand down and turned back around as if that was the end of the conversation.

"Your name." Brendan called out again.

He couldn't see the boy's face, but he saw the way the kid's shoulders raised up, then down again as if he was sighing. "Listen, you seem like you're not too bad –"

"Thanks," Brendan should have been offended but he knew what his reputation was.

"That's not what I meant," he turned to face Brendan with an exasperated expression. "I just mean you're not as scary as everyone made you out to be. Tony didn't want me to work tonight in case you thought I was an inconvenience and bit my head off."

"It's nice to know what the people think," Brendan said sarcastically.

"Do you honestly care?" The boy raised his eyebrows high, allowing them to get lost in his mop of hair.

"Not particularly." Brendan answered truthfully. He only cared what the people he loved thought about him, and other than his sister, there wasn't anyone in Hollyoaks that he loved.

The waiter nodded his head as if that was the answer he was expecting and sighed again. "As I was saying, you seem alright, but I don't do casual, and if the rumours are anything to go by, that's exactly what you're interested in. I have a lot of shit on my plate, I don't want heartbreak on top of that."

Brendan got up off the stool he had been sitting on and advanced on the young man till he was standing in front of him. "I already defied your expectations by not biting your head off, maybe I'll do it again."

The boy smiled sadly at Brendan, "I can't have maybes in my life."

"I'm not asking for your hand in marriage, I'm asking for your name."

The enthralling blue eyes were resting over Brendan's shoulder as he considered the older man. He bit into his bottom lips in concentration before he finally made up his name. "I can only be your friend. I won't fall in love with you and you have to promise not to fall in love with me."

Brendan chuckled at that, "but presumptions, aren't we?"

"I prefer to think cautious." He pointed at his eyes, "comes with the territory. So…"

He couldn't promise anything like that, but he hadn't ever fallen in love yet, it wasn't very likely that this lad could change things. "What's your name, kid?" Brendan asked again as a way of an answer

The waiter dragged a hand down his face and finally gave in, "Ste, well Steven, but people call me Ste."

Brendan couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, he really thought that this was a lost cause. "Well, I'll be seeing you, Steven"

Steven rolled his eyes at the use of his full name and turned around before heading down the stairs, mumbling as he went, "that makes one of us."

With all his smiles, Steven sounded bitter about that.


	2. All Out of Love

**Chapter 2 **

"Ste, I need you at the bar!"

Ste was peeling vegetables in the kitchen when Danielle, the bartender's voice hollered through the thin walls to him. The kitchen wasn't even that far from the bar, she could've just popped in and asked him to help without the earth shattering scream. But that was Danielle, why move when you can just raise your voice. He still remembered when they first met, she had felt the need to shout when she spoke to him as if his sight impairment somehow made him deaf too.

He dropped the vegetables into a bowl and slowly walked out, mumbling to Tony about how he couldn't peel the potatoes anymore. Tony didn't mind, they had enough already, it was just something to keep Ste occupied whilst the place was quiet. He made it just behind the bar before Danielle's hand – if the sharp nails piercing through his shirt was anything to go by – was placed on his back, guiding him to the spot he was needed. He could've told her it wasn't required, that he had the layout of the place ingrained into his mind, but she'd just forget and do it again next time.

"There's a guy who specially requested you," came the hot whisper of Danielle's voice in his ear, so close that he could feel her spittle on his earlobes.

Ste didn't know who could possibly be requesting him, he never really spent time behind the bar if he could help it. Not after the bar incident of 2012, when he served the wrong drink to a guy who was already far too drunk. It resulted in him being pulled over the bar by his collar, Casey, a waitress, crying and Tony threatening the guy with a knife to put Ste down. It was an all-round humiliating and terrifying night for all involved.

"How far along the bar is he?" Ste asked, not wanting to walk straight past whoever it was.

"About five steps."

"Your catwalk five steps or my normal human five steps?" Ste had to clarify because he may not be able to see the woman, but he's heard enough people talking about her.

"Shut up." That wasn't exactly an answer, but that was all Danielle was willing to say. She turned on her heels and walked past him to serve someone else.

Ste sighed and walked the normal human five steps along the bar when a newly familiar scent hit him. He didn't mean to groan and hit his head against the bar top in annoyance, but it was like a reflex movement. There was a chuckle somewhere above his lowered head, which just had Ste groaning again.

"It's nice to see you too," came the Irish drawl when Ste finally stood up straight.

"Technically, I haven't seen you," Ste responded just to be a little prick. He knew it made people uncomfortable, and if the silence that followed was anything to go by, Ste had succeeded. "I'm kidding, you can take a breath." He nearly scoffed a laugh when he actually heard a release in breath. "What can I get you?"

"A night out with you?"

"Jameson. Okay." Ste turned around to get the drink, ignoring the comment made by the other man.

"It's a little early for whiskey, I'll just take the outing and leave."

Ste sighed where he was standing, and the man must have noticed because he cleared his throat to get Ste's attention back to him.

"Look, Steven," Brady started. "I thought we were going to be friends. Friends go out together."

Ste bent down and placed his elbow on the bar, his chin cradled in his palm. That was technically right. He did say they could be friends and Brady didn't seem the type to get attached. Ste didn't have to sleep with him, and when the time came, Brady wouldn't be distraught when everything went to shit. If the the man tried anything else, Ste could just walk away without anyone being hurt.

"Danielle!" Ste called, and a moment later he could feel the other bartender near his elbow. "Does this guy look like an axe murderer to you?"

Brady chuckled whilst Danielle made a humming sound as if she was really considering the question. "He has blue eyes, a richer blue than yours and black hair, which makes them stand out. He also has a tache, a sort of horseshoe shape one. It screams porno, but not axe murderer."

"Thank you," Brady said in a completely unimpressed voice. Danielle just singed you're welcome to him and left them to it.

"You really have a tache?" Ste asked with a grin fighting its way to his mouth.

"Yes, but it's not porn-star. If anyone looks like they've been in a porno, it's your little friend there. She's actually wearing heels longer than a nine inch dick."

"I fucking heard that," Danielle yelled from across the bar, but she didn't sound offended. If anything, she sounded a little proud. Ste was never going understand that woman.

He shook his head, laughing a little at the situation before he turned his mind back to the topic at hand. Danielle wasn't exactly the right person to ask for a character assessment, but she did care about him and Brady was known around Hollyoaks. Sort of. Ste didn't know much, not even his first name, but that was because everyone referred to him using his last. Still, people knew him, and they would warn him, Danielle would warn him if Brady really was a bad idea.

"We can go to lunch," Ste had made up his mind. "Night out is too date-ish and this isn't a date, right?"

Ste didn't need his sight to know that Brady was probably rolling his eyes so hard right about then. "Fine, whatever."

He told the other man to wait a second while he went to the back to tell Tony that he was going to be off for lunch, but when he went there, Thayer, the sous chef told him that Tony was waiting for him in his flat upstairs. Ste started to get a little worried, because Tony normally never shied away from saying anything in front of the other staff, they were like a family here. He only ever ventured into the flat when he wanted to discuss serious matters. There was only one topic Tony wanted privacy for.

Ste knocked on the door and heard the man tell him to come in, and as soon as he did, he tripped over a chair that shouldn't have been there. He let out a yelp and a pair of hands were instantaneously wrapped around him to pull him up.

"What the fuck, Tony?"

"Sorry, sorry, the twins got bored and started to rearrange the living room. I'll change it back."

Ste let the older man guide him to wherever the hell the sofa was and took a seat. He felt the dip in the seat next to him as Tony settled down to and got right into whatever he wanted to say.

"I don't want you going out with that man."

Okay, it wasn't exactly what Ste was expecting, but he had no doubt that Tony's opinions stemmed from more than the fact that Brady had a tendency to sleep with anything that liked penis as much as he did.

"Why not?" Ste asked, opting to give Tony the benefit of the doubt.

"Because he'll sleep with you, and you don't know how to do sex without feelings."

"You say that like I have no say."

"Ste, I've seen that man charm the pants off a Mormon."

Ste couldn't help but laugh at that image. From what he could tell about Brady, the man probably just did that because he saw it as a challenge. He probably thought of Ste as a challenge too. Except, Ste knew that he had never been able to have sex with someone he didn't develop feelings for, and he wouldn't develop any kinds of non-platonic feelings for the Irishman, not when it couldn't go anywhere.

"I'll be fine." Ste promised.

"I don't trust him not to hurt you, and you don't need that crap. You should be –"

"If this is going where I think it's going, you need to shut up now, Tony." He hated getting rude to the only man who's been like a father to him, but he would not have this conversation. Not again. The walls of this flat had heard too many tears, too many screams and witnessed too many breakdowns. Most of them weren't even due to Ste.

"Ste, please, you never want to talk about it, but –" And there it was.

Ste stood up from where he was sitting and stormed his way to the door, telling Tony as he went that he was going for his lunch and he most certainly was going with fucking Brady. If he wasn't so sure before, he was sure as hell now. He needed people to stop mollycoddling him, he could take care of himself. If Tony had said Brady was a bad idea for any other reason, like because everyone was pretty sure he dealt with drugs, then Ste would have listened. But not about this. He could go out and not fall in love if he damn well wanted to.

Back downstairs Brady was waiting for him and Ste heard the cluttered noises of the man standing up when he noticed Ste. "About time."

"Sorry, Tony was busy telling me you're a slut. It was interesting stuff. Did you really charm the pants off a Mormon?" Ste was good at joking. Joking was something he could do. He would not cry anymore.

Brady laughed at the question, but didn't reply, and instead, he asked if Ste would need his white cane while they were out. He gave an impressed sound when Ste pulled it out of his pocket and unfolded it. He bought the compact one after he became used to walking around without it. That way he had the thing if the occasion called, but wouldn't need to carry it around in his hand all the time.

Ste didn't really need it, but he let Brady help him to where the Irishman had his car parked. They drove for all of five seconds, well what felt like five seconds, but it could've been just that Brady drove really fast, especially if the motion sickness that Ste felt was anything to go by. He probably should've told the man to be careful, but he didn't want to answer any questions it may lead to.

They went to a restaurant that smelt mouth-watering and Brady whispered something in his ears about how this place had the best pizza, and just because it was Italian like Tony's restaurant, this didn't count as cheating on the older man because this place called itself a bistro. Ste wasn't really listening to the words coming out of the other man's mouth, he was too busy mentally telling his body not to react to the heat of the mouth near his ear.

They were led to their table at the back, and Ste knew that the back tables were for couples who wanted privacy, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter what Brady did in his endeavour to persuade Ste to get involved in something more than friendship, because Ste wouldn't allow it.

Brady read out the menu to him before they decided on their food and drink, and Ste was a little bit annoyed with himself at the enjoyment he was having with the Irishman. If Brady had been an irritating person, the he could've told the other man that they had tried to be friends and failed and it was all Brady's fault. They could've said their goodbyes and left it at that. But Ste found himself laughing. A lot. Even choking on his pizza and having his drink fly out of his nose.

Yeah, Ste could totally believe that this man charmed the pants off a Mormon.

They had ordered dessert when Brady asked him about his age.

"Twenty one. I know, I've been told I look like I'm about seventeen, but I swear, I've past the big two zero." Ste smiled as he picked at the corners of a napkin.

Brady didn't say anything for a moment and he was so quiet that Ste couldn't even hear him breathing. It worried him a little, that maybe the man had just upped and left, but then there was the complaining of the chair as Brady moved in closer and Ste could smell him a little better, feel the heat from his body a little more.

"That must be really annoying. People telling you how you look rather than you just knowing." Brady's voice was quiet, leaving out any of the usual humour it held when he spoke about Ste's sight. As if now he wasn't going to be flippant about the topic just because Ste always was, like he really did feel for Ste.

Fuck that.

"How old are you?" Ste asked because he was good at ignoring the elephant in the room.

Brady exhaled loudly, but didn't probe any further, instead, he just answered the question. "Thirty. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Ste just grinned at that, "no we're friends, why would I be uncomfortable about that? But the fact that you were originally hitting on me just makes it known that twinks are your thing."

"You're not all boy, you have a lean body. I imagine there are some muscles under your shirt." The older man's voice was lowly and slightly husky, and it was clear what he was trying to do.

Ste drew his face into a faux frown and picked up his fork, pointing it at the Irishman, "No. Down boy. No imagining what's under my clothes."

Brady gave a throaty laugh at that as the waitress came with their desserts. They went back to light banter after. The Irishman spoke about Jacqui McQueen and Rhys Ashworth's antics, their passive aggressive foreplay to what was inevitably going to be explosive sex in Brady's broom closet. The bar owner concluded that he'd rather redecorate and disinfect his closet than walk into another situation where the air was filled with thick sexual tension and he could practically feel the arousal emitting from them.

Ste told him about all the people he worked with, well, all the people he worked with the most. Danielle, who was a bit of a man eater and had tried it on with Ste on his twenty first birthday, despite knowing that he was gay. Casey was his favourite waiting staff because she was like a little baby, cried easily, but laughed harder. Thayer was the sous chef who was a bit of a jackass to everyone, but secretly loved them. He was the only one that was allowed to be a dick to them, anyone else and they'd be eating his fist. Laura was the Maître d, and a bit of a mum, and Brady knew who Tony was.

And fucking Brady listened to Ste like he was actually interested, like he was hypnotised just by the very sound of Ste's voice.

They were back in the car when the elephant made its appearance re-known. Brady was driving extra slow, and what had seemed like a five second drive, now seemed like it was taking five lifetimes.

"Can… can I…" Brady hesitated, clearly nervous about asking what he wanted to know. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Can I ask you how you lost your sight? You mentioned that you've been blind most of your life, but not all."

Ste should've seen this coming. He pouted his lips slightly and shrugged before he turned his head towards the window, even though he couldn't see out it. It was better than letting Brady see his reaction to the question.

"Look, you don't have to tell me, but if we're gonna be… _friends_," he said the word like it physically pained him. It made Ste smile a little. "I'm just letting you know that it's gonna be something I'm going to want to know. You never have to tell me, but yeah…"

Ste let out a long suffering breath and drew his hand down his face trying to school his expression into something blank. He guessed he could offer Brady a short version. "I got into a fight. When I was younger. I was irritating and it aggravated the wrong people. Head injury."

"Head injury?" Ste didn't know how it was possible, but he could practically hear the frown in Brady's voice.

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with my eyes per se. It's me brain."

"I – What?" Brady stopped the car so suddenly Ste felt the pressure of the seatbelt dig into his ribs as it worked to keep him from flying through the window. He heard Brady shift in the driver's seat to presumably look at Ste. This was why he didn't want to say anything. It always led to too many questions. "Someone picked a fight with you when you were a child until they gave you brain damage to the point in which you lost your sight?"

There was a little more to it than that, but Ste nodded, anyway.

"Fucking kids!" Brady said through gritted teeth as he started the car again.

"Yeah, kids." Ste murmured under his breath, hoping Brady wouldn't ask anything else.

When they got back to the restaurant Brady got out of the car and walked Ste back in, even though the man probably had to get back to work. He did come looking for Ste with the intention to take him out in the evening, not lunch, so he was perhaps delaying his return to work. However, he did own the club, so it was more likely that he just made up his own hours.

They were at the door when Brady gently took hold of Ste's elbow to stop him from going in, "hey, I really enjoyed tonight, so if –"

"I had a good time too, Brady. I didn't think I would, but you're not half bad." Ste grinned in the direction he thought the older man was standing.

"The name's –"

"Nuh uh," Ste brought a finger up to silence him. He really hoped he wasn't facing the complete wrong way, otherwise he'd probably look really silly. "I've heard everyone call you Brady, and as someone who is not special to you, I will call you Brady."

Brady huffed out a puff of air, "fine, I get it. You don't wanna be more than friends. Can I at least take you out for a beer, friends do that."

Ste should have said no, but instead he nodded and took Ste's phone number, promising to call to meet up. In all honesty, he wasn't really expecting a call. It was more probable that the man was just humouring him not to seem like a arsehole. Nobody wanted to be the man who decided to be a piece of crap to the blind guy who wouldn't sleep with him. Brady wasn't going to call, and Ste wasn't bothered. He did have a nice time, but that's all it was.

Ste worked the rest of his shift, avoiding all his co-workers incessant questions about the dark haired man who apparently looked like sex personified. Ste shrugged every time they mentioned how handsome, sexy, suave he was, it wasn't like appearance meant much to him. But he did mentally agree with them when they said his accent sounded like it dripped honey, but men like that stung pretty hard too.

Tony didn't mention it again. He squeezed Ste's shoulder in apology for their earlier argument and Ste had leaned into the touch in his own admission of guilt, but neither of them voiced it. Tony didn't like upsetting Ste, and Ste hated upsetting Tony more. That's why they'd argue, Tony would sack Ste, Ste would tell him to fuck his job, and when both of them realised that they regret the shit they said, they'd just get back to normal. That was just them. That was how family was.

Ste got home about ten past seven. He finished work at seven and it took him the extra ten to walk back. As soon as he stepped in, he called out a hello to find out if Doug, his flat mate was at home, but when no reply came, he figured that the American was probably at his girlfriend's place. Or boyfriend. Or whatever the hell he decided to sleep with that month.

Ste plugged his phone – which had run out of charge whilst he was still out with Brady – into the charger. It took a few seconds to bleep back to life and Ste used those moments to check his answering machine. The woman on his phone told him he had one voicemail, and when the voice came through, it was Amy's. She told him to call her as soon as he got home. She said nothing was wrong, but just missed him. Ste knew better.

His mobile let him know that he had three missed calls from Amy, two texts from her, one from Doug, and one from… a number Ste didn't recognise. The robot thingy woman just read out a series of digits for the last text. He opened that text first, and the voice read out the message,

From: 077…..: _It's Brady. I wrote my name there, but I know how you are about that. Drinks, day after tomorrow. Lemme know. _

Ste had been so sure that Brady would forget about it with how adamant Ste was not to have anything intimate. Seemed like the man really was exceeding his expectations. He shot back a quick text saying he couldn't this week, maybe next. He actually could, but if the man really was interested in just friendship, Ste was curious to know how hard he'd try.

The message from Doug was just to tell him that he, in fact, was staying at his girlfriends. Amy's were different versions of the same message, _call me. _He didn't bother listening to the voicemails they'd be the same things too. Instead, he just called the damn woman. It rang three times before her smiling voice filled his ears. He doesn't know how a voice could smile, but that was the expression he always associated with his best friend.

"Ste! I've been calling you!"

"I know. And you know I have a job. What's wrong?" Ste said in irritated fondness.

"Oh yeah, sorry, it's just Tony called, so I thought you finished for the day."

Ste rolled his eyes even though it was something he only picked up on to make the people around him more comfortable with his blindness. "Tony called you, then he should've called you again to tell you that the big bad man didn't tear me from limb to limb, because I'm sure the reason he called you was to complain about me going out with Brady."

"He's worried," her voice was soft with guilt and that annoyed Ste more. _"I'm_ worried."

"What for? It wasn't a date. I made it clear to him I won't date him."

"You can date, Ste. But not with someone like him. You know how he treats people."

"He treated me just fine." Ste was gritting his teeth and his jaws were beginning to hurt.

"What happens if you fall for him and then he finds out about…?" Amy hesitated. She never said it out loud. It was taboo for her. Made it too real. "And then he finds out? What if he leaves you? He's not exactly Mr Commitment. You don't need that."

"I'm not gonna fall in love with him, for fuck's sake! We went out one time, stop planning our wedding. I'm not gonna tell him. Ever." Ste was getting angry, it was never good when he got this worked up, and Amy knew it. She kept telling him to calm down, that she was sorry, but he was too pissed off now. "You're right, I don't need someone like him in my life. I don't care if he stays or goes. What I do need is a fucking life. I'm not dead, Amy. Not yet."

"STE!" Amy screamed tearfully, but that was all she managed to get out before Ste hung up on her.

He was trying to breathe through his anger when he tasted the copper pang in his mouth and felt the wetness beneath his nose. He brought his index and middle fingers up to swipe across the liquid and brought them up to his nose.

Yep, that was blood.


	3. The Thread of Dawn

**Chapter 3**

"Hey boss," Rhys popped his head into the office, his hand gripping onto the door frame. All his staff always did this, stand in the doorway in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Brendan lifted his head up from his paperwork and raised his eyebrows to signal the bartender to continue. "Your sister is here."

Brendan lowered his brows back down and let out a breath of irritation at that. He loved his sister, but ever since she got pregnant, she only ever turned up at the club to cry about the most tedious things, like how Nate had a tendency to leave socks lying around.

"Why didn't she just come straight on through?" Brendan asked, trying to delay going out to see Cheryl.

"She tried, but got exhausted and collapsed onto one of the sofas in the front."

Brendan rolled his eyes and put his pen down as he stood to make his way out there. Rhys took that as his cue to get back to his job and a little part of Brendan wanted to drag him back, so Chery could use his shirt to wipe her tear induced sniffles. Regardless, he let the man go, but instantaneously regretted it when he saw that Cheryl looked like a mess of snot and tears piled up on the sofa. Brendan would have to start sending Nate his dry cleaning bill.

"Hey sis, what's wrong?" He sat down near her, gently putting his arm around her shoulders, and that was all he had to do for the too pregnant woman to bury her dripping nose into the crook of his neck and sob.

"Nate's mum turned up and, and…" that was the limit as to what Cheryl managed to get out before she started hysterically crying again.

"Hey shh, shh, I'm here now, take a deep breath and just tell me what's wrong."

Cheryl sat up straight and used the handkerchief clutched in her fist to wipe away her tears, as she took the breath Brendan had ordered of her. It took a couple more for her to actually calm down, but when she did and managed to tell Brendan what was wrong, he understood why she was so frenetic.

Nate's grandmother had died and in her will, she left Nate a mansion, which, yeah, was great. Except the mansion was in Portugal, and while Cheryl wanted to live in Ireland like they had originally planned, Nate wanted to move to the big house. Brendan… Well Cheryl was all Brendan had, he didn't want her to be so far, and judging by the flood of tears streaming down Cheryl's face, she didn't want to be so far from him.

"I can't leave you, Bren. Ireland isn't as far as Portugal. Fucking Portugal, Bren."

"Hey, hey, c'mere." This time Brendan pulled her in to bury her in his embrace. It was a little difficult due to the ever-growing bump, but they made do. He held her like that until her sobs became little hiccups and she couldn't cry anymore.

"What am I gonna do?" Cheryl mumbled into his chest.

Brendan took a sigh and contemplated the question, he actually really thought about it. Yeah, he never imagined to be too far from the only family he had left, but that didn't mean he was the only family Cheryl had. She had a husband, and she was having a kid; what she had was the opportunity of a lifetime. He could imagine her being happy over there after she got over the initial sadness of being so far. If they moved to Ireland as opposed to Portugal, then he had no doubt a sense of bitterness would grow between his sister and her husband. Brendan had nothing left to give her, but Nate did. He could give her a life.

"I think you should go, you'll love it." He finally muttered into the curls of Cheryl's hair before he placed a kiss there.

Cheryl sat up straight and looked at Brendan like he had just slapped her unborn child, "what about you? You'll have no one."

Brendan attempted to smile at her, but he knew that it looked rigid and didn't reach his eyes. "I'll be okay. I'm always okay."

Cheryl considered him for a moment, narrowing her eyes as she observed him to see if he was telling the truth. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that you have Ste Hay to keep you company now?"

"What?" It came out as a snap, but he didn't mean for that to happen.

Steven hadn't returned his texts or calls since the week before when he said that they'd have to reschedule drinks. He didn't want to go to the restaurant again, a little bit because ever since that day Tony Hutchinson had been giving him dirty looks, but more due to the fact that he didn't want to force Steven to spend time with him if he really didn't want to.

Steven was nice, he was funny, and his complete independence despite his condition awed Brendan a little bit. Here he and his sister were, upset about living a few countries apart even though they could visit on holidays and Skype, and all the other million things technology allows to make the distance seem smaller. But Steven, there was nothing he could do about the way he was, and he still smiled like it could cure cancer.

"I was talking to Danielle and she mentioned that you took him out last week." Cheryl was all doe eyed and expectant like this was a glimmer of hope for her, that her brother had something to hold on to if she left him behind.

Brendan dragged his finger through his hair and settled more comfortably in the sofa now that his sister wasn't leaning into him. "Danielle is apparently something of a gossip. As for Steven, I don't think he likes me all that much."

"What? Danielle says that the fact that he went out with you in the first place just shows that he does like you. He doesn't date."

Brendan sort of knew that Steven probably didn't get into relationships, and it had more to do it than the fact that he heard stuff about Brendan's habits. But Brendan wasn't a heroine in some romance book, who could take Steven on a couple of dates and change his life forever, make him believe in taking risks. He couldn't do that when he didn't believe in it himself. That was why he had one night stands, that was why he was a thirty year old man who had never been in love. How could he convince Steven to take have faith in him, when he didn't have faith in himself?

"Steven's a good kid, but we're not compatible." Brendan concluded.

"That's bullshit and you know it." Cheryl frowned, determination in her voice. "Ste doesn't like date, yet he went out with you. You have sex, you don't take people out for meals, yet you took Ste. You see something in him, and he sees something in you."

"Wrong choice of words, sis."

"Oh shit," Cheryl brought her hands up to her lips, as if she could capture the words back into her mouth. It made Brendan snort.

"He hasn't returned my calls for the past week." Brendan said as a way of explaining that they just would not work.

"You've been calling him for the past week?" Cheryl's eyes were all bugged out with that question, disbelief written all over her face.

"Well, yeah, for drinks, but –"

"Oh my god, Brendan. You never call people. You meet them, do _the stuff_ with them, but you never call them. But, you've been calling Ste _all _week."

That… that sounded bad.

"What am I supposed to do?" He found himself asking instead of denying that, yeah, he may have a fascination with the kid whose eyes look like they can see into one's soul. Irony was a cruel thing.

"If he won't return your calls, then go find him."

Yeah, that sounded like a plan. An awful plan.

An hour later, when Cheryl had gone home to continue talking about her and her husband's living situation for the future, Brendan found himself executing that awful plan. He was at Tony's, and when he had asked for Steven, the chef had come out of the kitchen with a cheese grater in his hands, accompanying a look that said he wanted to use it on Brendan's dick.

He asked Brendan what it was that he wanted with Steven, and Brendan was honest to god stuck with that question. He knew what he was pursuing with the younger man was definitely more than friendship, but past experience proved that Brendan wasn't the type to have anything more than a sexual relation. Steven was adamant that he was not looking to fall in love, but he couldn't do just sex either.

Maybe it was that they were both just lonely souls, gravitating to one another. There weren't words that could be said to explain, there weren't any feelings that could be defined. Maybe they'd have friendship, maybe they'd go crazy and fall in love. Or maybe they were just the hand that would pull them up, if one fell down.

"I just wanna see him." Brendan decided on saying, because whatever reason he couldn't articulate for wanting Steven in his life, he did know that he wanted to see him again.

"He's not at work today. He took the week off."

Brendan started to get a little worried at that. If Steven had a flu or a cold it'd be understandable for him to stay away from a place that served food. But an entire week, a week in which he had been avoiding Brendan. Something didn't feel right.

"Is he okay?"

"Mostly." That was all Tony was willing to share. After that, he just turned round and walked back into the kitchen. Suffice to say, Brendan was still worried, but now he was confused too.

He took a seat at the bar almost unconsciously, trying to sort his thoughts out and remember if Steven had told him where he lived, but couldn't think up an address. Just when he was gonna go all stalker and look him up in the big phonebook that was back at the club office, a voice spoke to him, snapping him back to the reality around him.

"He's at home, and he's okay." Said the little blonde, who was a waitress if the apron wrapped around her waist was anything to go by. When Brendan just stared at her, she continued on to introduce herself. "Casey, I work with Ste. He's okay. Tony is actually the one that forced him to take a week off for feeling a little unwell."

"Do you know where he lives?" Brendan found himself asking quickly. He was anxious that Tony would come back and shoo him out.

Casey bit her lips nervously, probably considering whether or not he was some kind of threat to Steven. She must've found something that proved his innocence, because she gave him a dimpled smile and wrote down an address on her notepad, ripping the page out and handing it over to him.

Brendan looked down at the page, and noticed that the flat was within walking distance, so he speedily got to his feet and kissed Casey on the cheek as a way of gratitude, emitting giggles from her. He left the place before the blush on her cheeks settled down, and hurried to the younger man's house, hoping that the kid would actually open the door for him.

There was an intercom to get into the building of flats, and when the door rang out, Brendan tried one more time just to be safe. It was nearly ringing out again when an American, frazzled voice came through, apologising and something about shower and music. Brendan thought maybe he got the wrong door, but he didn't have time to check, as whoever it was that answered had opened the security door without asking who it was.

Brendan slipped on through and climbed to the third floor where Steven's flat supposedly was. He was relieved to find that whoever had buzzed him in hadn't opened the front door without inspection too. He knocked on the door just once, only for it to be whipped open while his fist was still in the air. He dropped it to his side and observed the man who was definitely not Steven.

"Can I help you?" It was the American who had answered the door. He must've been in the shower because his hair was still wet and dripping onto his t-shirt that clung to his damp body.

"I'm looking for Steven," Brendan said as he tried to look around the yank and into the flat, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man he was actually in search for.

"He's in his studio with headphones on, which is why I had to run out of the shower to open the door." So that was what he was going on about when he answered the intercom, what he hadn't mentioned was a studio. Brendan's interest was without a doubt peeked.

"I'm a friend of his. He hasn't been to work all week, so I just wanted to check up."

The yank nodded and stepped aside to let Brendan in, whilst introducing himself as the boy's flatmate Doug. He led Brendan down a corridor to a room, while talking about how Steven had used the time off to work on some new stuff and now he wouldn't leave the studio. They stopped at a door in which Brendan assumed Steven was on the other side of, but Doug didn't clarify. Just nodded and left him to it, entering a room with an identical door to the one Brendan was stood in front of.

Looked like Brendan was going to have to explain himself how he got in.

He slowly opened the door, not wanting to startle Steven on the other side, but when he managed to get in, he realised that his efforts had been purposeless. Steven had his back to Brendan and was bobbing his head away to music in his ear, completely ignorant of anyone having entered the room. Brendan couldn't see what it was that he was working on, but the boy was completely lost in his task.

He took the opportunity to glance around the room, which now that her was looking, he could see that it was probably a spare bedroom that they had converted into a studio. A sculpting studio. There were a couple of the conventional vases here and there, but most of the sculptures were abstract, they had curves and edges that had no real purpose, but probably meant a million different things to a million different people. Most of them weren't painted, but they didn't need it, they had a rawness to them without the added colour, the truth that lay beneath the smiles. It felt like being in a room full of secrets, enigmas Brendan had no right to knowing.

He could feel goose-pimples rising at the back of his neck, and he shook the feeling of unnerve away as he approached Steven. He tugged on the younger man's ear plug, making Steven turn around with a scowl on his face and a curse on his tongue.

"What the f- oh, it's you." The crease on the boy's brows cleared. "Did Doug let you in?"

"I'm equally fascinated as I am a little creeped out that you can tell it's me just by my smell." Brendan joked, taking in the blue apron that Steven was wearing to keep his clothes from being smattered in clay. He wasn't using one of those wheel things, so it was probably a sculpture that he was working on. "You never mentioned that you sculpt."

"Yeah," for some reason Steven seemed a little embarrassed by his talent. "I started when I was younger. When I first lost my sight. It was part of my therapy to teach me to see using my hands. I got good."

Steven smiled by the time he finished explaining, and Brendan realised that he wasn't embarrassed, he was coyly proud of himself. And he had every right to be so. Brendan was no art critic, but Steven was good, better than good.

"What's your favourite piece?" Brendan asked, wanting to keep the blush on Steven's cheek.

The kid grabbed a cloth from the side and wiped his hand with it before putting the item back exactly where it was. Brendan guessed everything had to be in a specific spot if Steven was to use the room efficiently. The boy walked to a glass case, and used his fingertips to run down a series of figures, before he settled on a small bust of a woman. Brendan's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw how life like the thing was. The streaks in the hair, the curves in the nose and upturns of the nostrils, the cheeks, the laugh lines.

"You did that?" Brendan's voice was far too surprised, but Steven didn't take offence. Instead, he nodded and grinned like Christmas had just come early. "But most of your work is abstract. Why don't you do more of these?"

Steven's smile faltered a little, before dropping completely. The younger man turned around and put the item back in his glass cabinet, then walked back to his work station. "It… The bust is of my mum, but she died from cancer a few years back, and I haven't wanted to do it since."

Brendan didn't know what to say. There was never a right thing when it came to death, because different people handled it differently. When his mother died, Brendan stopped speaking for months, even to his shrink. When his stepmother died, he ran away from home. When his father died, he drank himself into a stupor for feeling so relieved by it. So he didn't say anything to Steven, he just moved on.

"So is there a reason you've been ignoring me for the past week, and why you haven't been at work either, apparently?"

Steven took a deep breath and mumbled something under his breath, but Brendan couldn't hear what. And he didn't have time to ask, because whatever it was that Steven had been working on was hurled across the room, till it crashed into a something and a huge splat echoed across the room. Okay, so asking Steven about work was a no no… or asking Steven to spend time with him was.

"Look, I can go if you really want me to, but I… Steven…" Brendan didn't know how to finish that sentence. He couldn't exactly come right out and say _hey I'm a little lonely, I think you might be too, so I'll take you up on the friendship offer. We don't even have to be friends, I don't know what we can be, but maybe we can be something. _

He didn't say anything. He turned and walked out of the room, his shoulders heavy and his head down. He made it to the front door when he heard Steven behind him, calling his name. Brendan turned around to see the boy a little flushed red around the face, like he chose to come after Brendan only a split second ago and had to run to the front door.

"It's not you. The tantrum before. It's not you. I had a headache at work, and Tony insisted I take a whole week off because of it. He treats me like a glass figurine and it just makes me mad sometimes. It's not you."

The younger man tried to smile, but it was strained and he was breathing heavily, as if, if Brendan left him alone, he'd probably crumple to the floor in a panic attack.

"You've been ignoring my calls, though."

"I – I know." Steven stuttered, but walked closer to Brendan. "I didn't really care whether you stayed or went from my life. But I want you to stay now."

Brendan followed the movement of Steven's throat as he swallowed down, before he nodded his head in a daze. Realising that Steven couldn't actually see him doing that, he cleared his throat and brought his eyes back up to the younger man's face. "I'll help you clean up that mess you made in your studio."

Steven smiled and slowly led them both back into the room. He told Brendan to go into the bathroom and get some hot water in a bucket whilst he dumped the larger chunks of his ruined sculpture in the bin. Brendan didn't comment on the fact that Steven had just ruined something he had been sweating over and dedicated to for days now.

They silently cleaned, Brendan doing most of the work because the boy claimed he couldn't do any of the laborious scrubbing since he was blind and would miss a few spots. Brendan thought about mentioning how he had seemed fine when he mopped the floor in the club, and he probably cleaned up his messes all the time in the studio. He didn't, instead, he let the kid have the joy of ordering him about for a moment. Brendan just smiled and shook his head every time Steven told him he wasn't scrubbing _loud _enough.

His suit was ruined, that was for a fact, even with the apron Steven had told him to wear. Brendan told himself it meant nothing that he didn't care because Steven had laughed when he slipped, causing the dirty water to fall all over the lap of his pants. It meant nothing that his heart rabbited when Steven guffawed so hard that he snorted. It was normal, people liked making other people life.

By the time Brendan was done cleaning up – yes, just Brendan – Steven had made him a coffee and led him to the living room. It was late by then, dark outside and Doug had gone to work, wherever he worked. Brendan joined Steven in the front room and took in what he could see of the house. There were a couple of pictures, but only one had Steven in it, and that was only because Doug was in it too with a larger group. He guessed Steven wouldn't need pictures of family and friends, seeing as he couldn't look at them.

The place was also scattered with objects that made life as a blind person easier to live. There were braille books, audiobooks, films with audio description, and things Brendan couldn't even recognise. The house was immaculately neat, everything in its spot in case Steven tripped into something, or couldn't tell where he was because an item was moved. Anything that was labelled, was labelled in braille or had a specific texture so as to make sure Steven knew what he was handling.

There was something of a juxtaposition with the house; it proved that Steven could do whatever the hell he wanted to do, he could be like anyone else, he was independent. However, at the same time he was so dependent on the littlest detail, his whole world would be thrown into chaos if things weren't exactly in a specific way.

"Are gonna sit down?" Steven asked, dragging Brendan's attention back to him.

"How do you know I'm not sitting?"

"Unless you're sitting on the floor, or got a chair from the dining room – and I know you didn't because I'd have heard you open the doors – I'd have felt the sofa dip when you sat down."

Again, Brendan was a little mesmerised by how the tiniest details could make Steven see the entire world around him.

Brendan sat down on the sofa and saw the tug of a small smile on Steven's lips, as the sofa dipped with his weight. They drank their coffees in silence and he was ready to bid the boy goodnight, when Steven's hand came to rest on his forearm, a worry line on the younger man's forehead.

Steven opened his mouth a couple of times and closed it, taking a deep breath before he built up the courage to say what it was he wanted to say. "I still stand by what I said. I won't be anything more than platonic with you."

Brendan hoped Steven could feel his eyes roll with exasperation. "I can do friends, Steven."

The younger man nodded slowly before he took another deep breath and placed his hand back onto his own lap. "I hope you mean that, because as my friend I have a favour to ask you." Brendan frowned in confusion, but stayed quiet. "I would've written it down, but you know…" he trailed off as a way of explanation. "I want you to do a few things with me."

"You already said no sex," Brendan said, because he didn't know what else he had to offer. He could do sex, sex was easy, but Steven didn't want that.

"Not sex… just, a few things like – like plant a tree."

Brendan was officially lost, "you want to plant a tree?"

"Well, yeah. I – I don't have any kids or any kind of achievements or anything, so I wanna plant a tree, something that'll still grow and have a life after I'm gone. I wanna leave something behind."

"A tree, you wanna leave behind a tree?" Brendan may have snorted a little at that, but when Steven frowned and looked like he was about to take it all back and ask Brendan to forget it, Brendan quickly sobered up. "Okay, okay. We can plant a tree. What else?"

Steven bit his lip and scratched at the nape of his neck as he stuttered out, "I – I have a list if you want to write down."

"Is this like a bucket list, are you dying, do you have cancer?" Brendan asked with amusement in his voice, because no way was that the case. No fucking way.

Steven laughed with him, but there was a quake in his sound, "no, no I don't have cancer, I promise. I just don't have many opportunities to do anything, and with you insisting to spend time with me, I don't see why I can't try to do some of the things I've always wanted."

"Okay," Brendan started, unsure whether he completely believed Steven. He didn't think Steven was lying about having terminal cancer or anything, but he did feel like he was missing something. "What's the list?"

He brought up the notepad on his phone with a new page called _Steven's List _and put plant a tree right at the top as number one.

"Plant a tree," Steven reiterated and when Brendan told him he already added that, he carried on. "I wanna go to a live concert. One of the kids I used to go to the therapy group with said the vibrations of a live concert had your heart beating faster than the music. He said it was the most alive he ever felt."

Brendan added that to his list and then told Steven to carry on.

"I wanna swim in the sea and taste the salt in my mouth. I wanna learn a new language, even just a sentence. I wanna dance barefoot in the rain. I wanna be amazed. I wanna conquer a fear. I wanna save a life. I wanna talk to my dad. And I wanna –" Steven faltered like he had just caught himself before he could say something he'd regret. He snapped his mouth shut and smiled, declaring that was the end of his list.

Brendan looked down at what he had written and he had a few questions about them, starting off with why the kid didn't talk to his dad anymore. But what was bothering him more, was that he wanted to know what that last thing on Steven's list was.

"There's only nine." Brendan pointed out. "Most people have ten at the very least. What was that last thing you wanted to do?"

Steven looked like he wanted to say what, but instead he shook his head, "don't matter, it's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible Steven, I'll make it happen. What was it?"

Steven looked down at his lap and played with his fingers as he whispered, "I wanna see the sun rise."


	4. Perfectly Blind

**Chapter 4 **

"I'm beginning to think you don't work," Ste commented as the stool on the opposite side of the bar groaned with the weight of the older man as he sat down.

"I'm allowed a lunch break, Steven." Brady responded with a phony put upon huff.

The bar owner had turned up for lunch at Tony's every day since Ste returned to work. For the past two weeks, like clockwork, he'd be sitting at the bar at one fifteen, waiting for Ste to take his lunch break too. Tony always grumbled curses under his breath when the older man walked in, but more and more often Ste always found himself grinning at the Brady's presence. He would never say it out loud, but a part of him even anticipated the visits.

They talked mostly about nothing. Brady never mentioned the tension filled silence that had followed after Ste told him his final request on his list. That night, when Brady had apologised so softly that Ste was sure he had imagined the sound, the older man sounded devastated that he couldn't fulfil the complete list. Ste wasn't even sure how much they would get one, if any at all, but it was that one that hung in the air long after they said goodbye. They hadn't mentioned the list since. Ste was pretty sure that the whole night was to be forgotten, Brady had just indulged him by promising Ste he'd help tick everything off.

So they talked. Talked about the customers in the bar and the restaurant. Ste told him about Amy, who was in Africa with her boyfriend teaching kids English, and in return Brady told him about a woman called Anne, who was perhaps the only person he would define as a friend. Ste had frowned at him when the older man said that, making him stutter and claim that of course Anne was his only friend besides Ste. Neither of them spoke for a good minute after that, but eventually they both burst out laughing. For the first time in forever Ste actually found himself forgetting that he was how he was, that he had limitations to his life. For the first time, Ste laughed like he'd laugh forever.

"Aren't you sick of the food here?" Ste asked, as he rounded the bar and sat next to the older man. He usually took his lunch break, too, whenever Brady came.

"A little bit, the company could be better too," Brady joked, his shoulder nudging Ste's slightly to show Ste he wasn't being serious.

"You're hilarious, it'd be even funnier if you weren't the one that turned up every day without fail."

"Hey, you're not here on Thursdays and Sundays, so I get takeaway sandwiches from that ridiculous deli next door." The older man's voice seemed to portray that he'd prefer to eat at the restaurant no matter how sick of the food he got, if it meant he saw Ste, and that, that terrified Ste a little, or a lot.

Brady hadn't tried anything since Ste proclaimed that they could only be platonic, but the older man was... intense. It seemed that he only had two settings on him. He was either the epitome of nonchalance, or he was all in. And when he was all in, his attention was a little overwhelming, in the sense that Ste felt like he couldn't reciprocate. Ste had been open about what he wanted, he had laid out exactly what he was willing to offer, but somehow he still felt like he was leading Brady on. Like Brady wanted something in return that Ste couldn't offer. And the problem with that was, Brady never asked for anything, so Ste was left reeling about his position in whatever it was that they had between them.

"I'm sorry that my days off are an inconvenience to you," Ste smiled in Brady's general direction. "You can still eat here when I'm not working, y'know?"

"But the food isn't even that great," Brady moaned as two plates were put in front of them.

"You're fucking welcome, arsehole," came the voice of Thayer, who must've popped his head out to scold Brady.

"Of course the food is exceptional whenever you cook my meals, Thayer." Brady retorted like a well berated child

"I'm the only one that cooks your food, idiot. Tony refuses. I'm pretty sure it's to keep himself from murder charges in case he feels a desire to put cyanide in your food."

"He loves me, really." The older man seemed to be enjoying his back and forth with the sous chef, and Ste found that he was smiling to himself when Brady returned his attention back to him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing… it's just – Remember I told you Thayer is a jackass to us, but secretly cares with all of his stone cold heart?"

Brady chuckled, "I don't remember the stone cold part, but sure."

"Well, if he's constantly throwing insults at you, it means he likes you, sort of accepted you into the circle." Ste turned away from Brady when he said that, his attention on his sandwich. Maybe he couldn't see Brady, but he didn't want Brady to be able to see the flush on his cheeks either.

"Really?" The older man's voice was low, and he must've bent down close to Ste's ear, because he could feel the heat of the older man's mouth on his cheek.

Ste refused to turn his head and carried on eating his sandwich, ignoring the pickup of his heart rate. "I suppose he has to, the print of your butt is ingrained onto that stool. You're part of the furniture now."

Brady laughed again, and Ste felt the instant the bar owner moved away from him, the air suddenly gone cold. They ate in silence mostly, well, they weren't really talking to each other, rather listening to Danielle and the latest gossip involving some kind of twincest in the village. Ste nearly threw up all his food at the idea, but Brady just told her to shut up because he had a younger sister and he didn't want to hear about what other people did with their siblings.

It was two thirty, like every other time, when Brady got up off his stool, ready to head back. Ste was waiting for the customary _see you later_ and pat on the shoulder, but this time Brady stalled. Ste didn't get up until he could practically feel the nerves radiating from the man.

"It's Thursday tomorrow," Brady finally said, like that explained everything. When Ste confirmed that yes, tomorrow was Thursday, what was his point, Brady huffed and carried on. "I should've asked if you already had plans, but I booked a slot at the Westminster Park where we can go plant your tree. It took me a little while to get a permit and all the other technical crap, but yeah…"

Ste was stunned to say the least. He thought they were going to forget about that list, but Brady had been taking time out of his life to make sure they could make a start on it. He didn't even know about the whole process, the permits, the permission. And it wasn't even the local park, where it would have probably sufficed to get the council's consent, but freaking Westminster Park. Ste couldn't help but wonder what kind of strings the older man had to pull to get a spot there so quickly. It was probably better to not know.

"I don't," Ste started, but Brady started to laugh a little hysterically, saying something about how he should've known that Ste wasn't being serious. "No, no, I wasn't backing out." Ste reached out a hand and searched for Brady's arm. The older man sighed what suspiciously sounded like relief and stepped within Ste's touching vicinity, so that Ste could hold onto his elbows. "Wow, you're melodramatic. I just wanted to say, I don't have plans tomorrow."

"I'm melodramatic? Need I remind you of a little clay incident about two weeks ago?"

Ste knew he was kidding, he knew that. And yeah, Ste did overreact maybe a little at the mention of being forced to take time off by Tony. But his outburst was the result of a much larger issue that had nothing to do with his boss, or anyone at all. He was angry when Brady came to see him, he's been angry for years. But every day for an hour during the past two weeks, Ste's forgotten to be so wrapped up in self-pity. So when Brady mentioned the clay incident, his smile dropped because he remembered why he did he had done it in the first place, why he was so angry.

"Did I say something wrong?" Brady asked when he noticed that Ste didn't have any humour in his expression.

Ste swallowed down and shook his head, a forced smile etched onto his face. It probably didn't convince anyone. "Pick me up tomorrow at my place?"

Brady stayed quiet a moment, perhaps contemplating whether to dig a little deeper at what was bothering Ste, or just to let it go. He let it go. "Yeah, at eleven, be ready."

With that, he spun on his heels and left, forcing Ste's hands to drop to his sides, a little too empty.

Xxx

The door buzzed at five past eleven, and Ste may or may not have barged into Doug when they both went to answer the intercom. The American had laughed and helped him up before answering it. He ruffled Ste's hair before he walked back into the main area of the flat as he told Ste that it was nice to see him excited about something that didn't involve his arms elbow deep in mud. Ste didn't bother correcting him for the gazzilionth time that mud could be a mixture of water and clay, but wasn't clay in itself. They've had that argument way too many times, much to Doug's amusement.

Ste opened the front door just as Brady's footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the flat. When the older man noticed him he said, "Hey, you ready?"

Ste lifted up one finger and walked back into the house to retrieve his jacket and white cane, and all the while Doug sniggered under his breath. Ste made sure to chuck the remote at him before he left. If the sound of the American's vociferous hooting was anything to go by and the crashing sound, Ste missed by a good mile.

Brady was quiet in the car. They said hello again properly as they got in, but the older man had barely said two words since. He wasn't the biggest talker in the world. He mainly listened to Ste's rambling, or answered a question Ste had, to the best of his abilities. There was give and take, but Ste could always tell that Brady made an extra effort to talk with him, it didn't come so naturally.

Maybe the need to try to be more loquacious came from the fact that Ste couldn't see him, so he thought he needed to make his presence larger by sound instead of visuals. Except, to Ste, Brady had a huge presence in the room, anyway. He ran slightly hot, so Ste could nearly always feel his body heat when they sat close, and his smell was a mixture of cinnamon and mint, almost intoxicating. Even before Ste accepted Brady's company, the guy's smell always had Ste recognising exactly who was there.

"Is everything okay?" Ste asked when he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Hmm?" Brady seemed like he was in a bit of a daze, not even aware that Ste was sitting right beside him. "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about it."

Ste shifted in his seat so that he was facing the driver's side. He often only looked towards the people he's talking to, to make them feel a little more comfortable speaking to a blind person. They tended to relax more and treat him like a normal human being when they felt like he was actually looking at them.

"Can I be curious?"

Brady let out a short laugh, "fine. My sister left for Portugal earlier this morning. I'm just gonna miss her. It's gonna be the first time we've been so far."

"Your sister? The one you had a leaving party for like nearly a month ago?"

"Yeah, she was meant to be going Ireland then, but there was a change in circumstances, vicious arguments and a large quantity of tears. Now, she's on a plane to Portugal to live the high life."

Brady sounded a little mournful, and Ste felt like he could hear the distinct sound of resentment too. "Aren't you happy for her?"

Brady sighed loudly, not saying anything for a while. Ste thought that was the end of the conversation, but when he was about to turn to sit properly on his seat, the older man spoke up again. "I am. I only want the best for her. But a little, selfish part of me wants the best for me too. Not the mansion, not anyone like Nate – that guy is one hell of a mama's boy – but the happiness that she gets from that. I'm happy she's happy, but I wanna be happy for me too."

Ste didn't know what to say to that, so he just turned around in his seat, so he was facing the front and took a chance when he reached out his hand and found Brady's in his lap. The older man instantaneously flipped his hand over so it was facing palm up and loosely let their fingers interlink. It was the first time Ste had any skin on skin contact with Brady, and when the pad of a calloused thumb lightly massaged circles into the soft, loose skin in between his own thumb and index finger, Ste told himself that the hairs standing up at the nape of his neck meant nothing. He was just comforting a friend.

They had someone meet them at the front of the park and guide them to where Ste was going to plant his tree. It didn't take too long. The hole was already dug out and Brady helped him handle the fragile little sprout of a tree into the spot. The guy who was helping them told him to use the hand shovel to put the soil back in to fill the hole, but Ste wanted to use his hands. He liked feeling the grains beneath his fingertips and liked the sponginess of earth when he pressed down, he liked the smell that lingered on his skin long after.

Ste felt a sense of fulfilment when he stood up straight and brushed his hands down his pants to wipe off any soil residue. He was grinning when he spoke to Brady, "you can tick that off the list now."

"Wait a minute," Brady sounded distracted, then a minute later Ste was being tugged back down by an obviously crouching bar owner. "Give me your hand."

Ste abided and let the older man lead him until his fingertips touched a cold smooth service. Ste frowned in confusion until he allowed his fingers to be glided across and over miniscule bumps and grooves in what he realised was a plaque. He felt the dots that equated to an S, and a T, and so forth.

"That's my name," Ste gasped, "Steven Hay. Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind can see."

Ste whipped his head around, his mouth slightly agape, but no words on his tongue.

"It's a quote by Mark Twain," Brady explained. "It's written using English letters too, that way tourists and visitors can read it, but I didn't see the point if you couldn't read it too, so I got them to write it in braille as well."

Ste smiled a little, a lump in his throat. "You think I'm kind?"

"Not in the obvious way," Brady laughed, pulling Ste and himself up. "You're a bit of a dick. But I literally have no one in Chester that looks beyond the club, the tache and my so called power. Yet, even without your eyes, before I forced myself into your life, the first time we spoke at the club, I felt that you let yourself see me for more. You weren't scared to just talk." Ste felt the moment Brady leaned in, his face, perhaps only a few inches away when he whispered, "and that's kind to a man like me."

He stepped back after that and Ste took in a shudder of a breath as he let Brady guide him out of the park, telling him that his certificate for the tree would arrive in the post in about a week. They walked silently back to the car, but before Ste rounded the vehicle to the passenger's side, he grabbed Brady's elbow and pulled him in. The older man went stiff for a moment, but just when Ste started to get a little self-conscious, Brady relaxed into the embrace and tentatively put a hand to the small of Ste's back, drawing him in just a little closer.

"Thank you," Ste's words were hardly audible, all hot breath ingrained in soft skin.

Xxx

It was two weeks later, on a Sunday this time, and March was in full swing, when his bedroom door was flung open and his heart leapt up to his throat.

"Rise and shine, Stevie boy," came the Irish drawl.

Ste relaxed immediately, then grabbed a pillow and tossed it in the direction of the voice. There was an oomph sound and Ste grinned at his aim, it was better than that time he chucked a remote at Doug. Brady just chucked the pillow back, it hit Ste, but he just used the item to snuggle back in bed and forget that a tall, dark and handsome man – if Danielle and Casey's fawning was anything to go by – was looming over his bed. That was when his duvet was ripped off of him and the cold morning swept over his body.

"What the fuck, Brady?" Ste ground out through gritted teeth, which lost any effectiveness to portray anger when they started chattering a little.

"We're going to the beach, Hay. Up, up." Brady's hands came to hold a vice like grip under his pits to drag him up, but Ste just let his body go limp until it was dead weight and the older man groaned in frustration.

"It's too cold to go to the beach," Ste whined, still refusing to leave the bed.

"It'll get warmer by the time we get there. I waited until spring to take you, so get your arse up."

"Please, it may be mid-March, but that means nothing in the UK. Just you watch, we'll have daffodils covered in snow." Ste crawled back to the centre of the bed when Brady gave up trying to lug his weight.

"Steven, I checked the weather for Llandudno, it'll get warmer by the time we drive to fucking Wales. So get the fuck up," Brady wasn't really angry, but he was getting annoyed. Ste kind of liked it when he could annoy the older man.

"Urgh, Llandudno. You can't call that place a beach. It doesn't even have sand!"

"I wanna swim in the sea, you said. I wanna taste the salt in my mouth, you said. You wanna know what I say, Steven?" Ste felt the dip of the bed as Brady placed a knee into it and leaned forward, "Get the fuck out of bed!"

With that, he stood up and stormed out declaring that he was making breakfast and Ste better be ready to eat it and leave in fifteen minutes. Ste just futilely shouted after him, "Wow, way to hold what a blind guy says against him."

Brady just told him to piss off. Yep, they were definitely friends now.

Also, Brady was a fucking liar.

The day most definitely did not get warmer. They were standing by the sea, Ste in his swimming trunks and presumably Brady in his too. He had put one toe into the water and felt like all his organs had frozen up inside. No way was he going to put his whole body into that depth of hypothermic death. And he told Brady exactly that, nope, nuh uh, ne, NO!

"If you think I'm getting into that," Ste picked up a rock and chucked into the sea. Unfortunately, he didn't hear the satisfying sound of a rock cracking against ice, it would have put his point across so much better. "Then I'm not the only one who suffered head trauma at one point or another."

Brady grumbled something under his breath about someone being an annoying little shit, but whoever it was, it most certainly was not Ste. Suddenly, though, he felt arms being wrapped around him, and then before he knew it, he was over the older man's shoulder and heard the horrifying sound of water sloshing around as Brady walked into the pool of frozen souls.

"First," Brady stated as he carried Ste in deeper and Ste kicked his legs about and protested. "Don't joke about your head trauma, it will never be funny."

That was something Ste was working on getting the older man past. He often became uncomfortable when Ste made light about his brain damage, as if he somehow wished he could turn back time and be there to stop it from ever happening. That was impossible, so Ste needed him to be able to laugh about it. The only other road was a dark path of depression that Ste refused to even consider venturing. He had been there and he wasn't going to spend what he had of his life wallowing.

"Second," Brady carried on, "we're doing this."

The next thing Ste knew, his whole body was being encompassed by water so cold it felt like a thousand needles against every nerve ending. Ste took a couple of seconds to wonder if this was perhaps bad for him, if the cold could make things worse. He never thought to ask his doctor that when he went for his monthly visits. Cold obviously had some sort of effect on the brain if ice cream could give someone brain freeze, but his doctor hadn't exactly forbidden him from actually eating ice cream, even with how things were going.

"I – I – I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Ste's threat probably would've been more effective if he wasn't quaking through the whole thing and clinging to Brady like a comfort blanket.

Brady just chuckled deeply in his ear and pulled away from him as he asked if Ste could actually swim. Ste didn't know if the older man could tell the nodding apart from the shaking, but he must've because he let Ste's arms go, so that Ste had to fend for himself. It did not go well. He hadn't swam since he was like fifteen and had to do it as part of his physical therapy. Swimming was like a muscle reflex, so he knew he didn't forget, he just panicked.

At least he got to taste the salt in his mouth before he started flailing and screaming for Brady. "My fucking balls are gonna freeze off and swim away before I do."

Brady snorted as he wrapped an arm around Ste's waist and pulled him upright. "I'll catch your balls if they decide to leave you."

Ste splashed water into the older man's face and pushed him away slightly, so Brady could still hold him upright, but he no longer had his bare arms wrapped around Ste's naked torso. With the cold of the sea, he'd have no way of explaining why his face was so hot.

"You don't touch my balls," Ste said, his mind's eye now filled with a highly inappropriate and erotic image. His actual eyes may not work, but it seemed like his imagination had no problem with seeing a bit too much

He shook his head slightly and dumped himself under the water to clear away that image, or at least freeze it to death. Brady reached down and pulled him back up, ordering him about how if he actually started moving, he wouldn't feel the cold so much. But every time Brady backed away, Ste's insides filled up with panic and he ended up sinking.

"Do you trust me, Steven?" Brady asked as he managed to get Ste into a lying position, facing heavenwards.

"No," Ste replied, matter of factly. It wasn't a complete lie. He did trust Brady not to let him drown or die in general, and if they did that fall back on to a person and expect them to catch you test, he wouldn't think twice before falling into Brady's arms. But that was as far as that trust went right now. Did he trust the older man not to hurt him in the larger sense, where his heart counted more than his safety, he wasn't so sure.

Brady stayed quiet for a moment, before his voice, now sounding slightly defeated asked, "Do you believe me, at least?"

For most people there probably wasn't even a difference between the two options; believing and trusting. But to believe Brady right now was to accept that he would tell the truth if a questioned was asked. Short term basis. Like if they were a couple and Ste asked him if he cheated, he would believe Brady was telling the truth if he said no. But to trust him, to trust him would mean never needing to ask.

So yeah, Ste believed Brady. Just like he would believe Brady if he told Ste that he'd stay when shit got tough. But he didn't trust Brady enough that he could have faith in him without ever having to ask. And Ste would not do that, he would not ask someone to stay with him, not when he couldn't stay with them.

"Yeah, I believe you." Ste finally said, when the silence had gone on for too long.

There was a sigh from the older man somewhere above him, "I need you to relax, let your limbs go loose. If you stay stiff, you'll sink, but if you relax your body, you'll float."

So Ste did exactly that, he let go of the tension in every joint and every muscle, and allowed his body and mind to just unwind. He barely noticed Brady letting go, not until the older man was floating right beside Ste, their arms bumping against one another. A sudden laugh escaped his mouth, and wow, he felt euphoric.

"Shit, I'm floating. In the fucking sea." Ste laughed as he let his arms up and swam on his back. He always had found it easier this way.

Brady always remained close by, and stopped him when he got too far. But he didn't say anything really for the rest of the day. They managed to tick off another thing on Ste's list, but it seemed like only he was impressed by their progress. The whole, long ride back to Chester was mainly in silence, with the exception of the thrumming of the engine and the radio on down low. Ste was asleep when they got back home.

Brady walked Ste to his flat, where Ste thanked him profusely for the day and putting up with his bitching. Brady just told him it was his pleasure, but it really didn't sound it. The older man was walking away when Ste finally acknowledged that what he had said earlier was perhaps the problem.

"I can't trust you," Ste said, his voice a little too loud. The resonances of the footsteps stopped, so Ste guessed Brady must've been hearing him out. "I can't not see and have blind faith too."

"Okay," the older man said in a hushed, sad voice. "For what it's worth, I trust you." Brady's footsteps started to descend again, but before it disappeared down the stairs, Ste heard him say, "I guess we're both blind somehow."


	5. Maybe I'm Amazed

**Chapter 5**

"_Steven is ainm dom_." Brendan enunciated, opening his mouth wide in order to make the sounds as clear as possible.

Steven tried to repeat the phrase the older man was trying to teach him, but after countless failed attempts, the kid just dropped his head down and stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth, giving up. They had been sitting here for about half an hour now, trying to learn simple Irish phrases, but Steven's rather resilient Mancunian accent was proving to make it rather difficult. Danielle didn't help matters with her cackling every time Ste said a word that sounded nothing like what Brendan had told him to repeat.

"Are you just making stuff up?" Steven mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"No, are you being this difficult a student on purpose?" Brendan retorted, because seriously, the boy had the attention span of a goldfish with memory loss.

Steven narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to, no doubt, throw some kind of insult back. However, Thayer came out of the kitchen and situated himself across the pair on the other side of the bar, snorting as he did.

"Ste was the worst student ever. He dropped out at sixteen, having failed most of his subjects and started working here not soon after. He's always been a spaz." Thayer wasn't even looking at them as he spoke, opting to put his feet up on the bar, his ankles crossed, as he flipped through a magazine.

Brendan thought maybe the kid would be offended, but he just chucked a single chip at his co-worker and told him to fuck off. "You'd fail too if all your subjects were designed for the perfectly non-disabled."

"You're not disabled, Ste. Didn't you punch me in the nose for calling you that like three years ago?" Thayer dispassionately carried on flipping through the magazine.

"Yeah, only I'm allowed to call myself that. Also, I didn't punch you cos of that, I punched you cos you're you."

The sous chef looked at Steven over the top of the magazine, not even bothering to lift his head up, just his eyes. "Remind me to punch you back."

Brendan observed the back and forth between the two colleagues, and it wasn't long till Casey jumped into the bickering to side with Steven, and then Danielle, who wasn't on anyone's side, but fuelled the fire to keep the arguing going on. It was actually quite amusing. There was plenty of heat being spouted from all ends, and Brendan knew Steven could be harsh when he wanted to, but the boys had a fondness in the quarrelling. Like it was habit and they'd probably get over it about five minutes after.

Steven was getting red in the face, which seemed to provide Thayer with joy, when Tony came barrelling out of the kitchen. His face had a worn out frown to it, like a parent's would when having to discipline his kids over a repetitive dispute.

"If you guys don't get back to work right now, I'm firing every single one of you. Don't think, I won't." The chef looked at the four of his staff with a disapproving glare, as all of them slowly slumped away back to their jobs. According to Steven's stories, the threat wasn't so much empty as it was short lived. The man had a tendency to fire them in order to instil fear, only to rehire them when he started to feel guilty about upsetting one of his children, no, staff.

Steven didn't move from his seat, even though they didn't have long left for their lunch. Tony glared a little more in Steven's direction, and the kid either didn't realise he was still there, or he was ignoring the murderous vibes coming from his boss. Brendan suspected it was the latter. Instead of heading back to his station, Steven attempted to recite My Name Is Steven in Irish again.

Brendan sighed. If the boy could ignore the daggers, so could he. "Let's try it phonetically. _Steven. Iss. Anim. Dyum."_

Steven tried. Steven failed.

"This language is stupid." The kid grumbled, leaning his cheek against his palm, his elbow on the bar.

"What are you even doing?" Tony asked, determined to let his presence known. Brendan wasn't sure who he was asking that to.

He decided it was for Steven, seeing as the man was staring at him with a gaze that probably penetrated into the sight of even the blind. The boy, however, was refusing to answer, but it wasn't from some form of petulance, not if the guilt that swept across his face was anything to go by.

Brendan decided to fill the pregnant silence, considering how no one else was willing. "Steven wanted to learn a new language, I'm just trying to teach him how to say his name in Irish."

The death stare turned to Brendan, "why would he want to do that?"

Brendan was about to answer, but Steven put his hand on Brendan's arms and shook his head softly, as he slid off the stool. He said a soft goodbye to the older man, but his heart really wasn't in it. The chef and he walked back into the kitchen, all the while Tony furiously whispered something into his ear. Brendan should've left then, he knew he should've.

Except, even with the fact that he and the boy were _friends _for three months now, Steven was still merely a voice behind a brick wall. He knew he wasn't Amy, he wasn't Tony, or even the three musketeers that were his co-workers, so he didn't expect Steven to tell him his deepest, darkest secrets. That didn't mean Brendan didn't know something was going on in the boy's life that he was being kept in the dark from. He had no right to demand to know, three months of whatever they had wasn't that long, and a good person would have waited for Steven to tell him in his own time.

But Brendan never considered himself a good person. And truth be told, he wasn't sure Steven was ever going to let him in. The trust issue still hung between them, and Steven didn't look like he was going to budge anytime soon, which meant either Brendan had to accept that the boy was going to be a perfectly selected version of himself, or Brendan would have to find out himself.

That was why, when he caught Danielle busy with a customer, and Casey taking down orders, he slipped behind the bar and towards the kitchen. However, there were two doors, one that led to the food prep room, and one that led to the staircase to the flat above. Brendan could only hear Thayer in the kitchen, along with a couple of other people, but no Steven. So he went up the stairs, instead.

There was shouting when Brendan got within hearing distance of the flat, mainly Steven, but Tony sometimes raised his voice too, but Brendan assumed it was only so he could be heard over the boy's voice. The words weren't clear at first, but as he got closer he could hear Steven telling Tony that he could do as he pleased with whom he pleased.

"You know, Ste," came Tony's tired voice. "I want you to have the best. You're like a son to me. I was the one that took you to the hospital that night. I was the one who held your mother as you lay in a coma for three weeks, your tiny body fighting for life. I went to every court hearing until all of those monsters were sent down for what they did to you. I have been here every step of the way, I –"

"AND WHAT?!" Steven roared so loud, Brendan's own throat hurt from just thinking about all the force that went into those words. All the rage, the tears, the exhaustion. "And what, Tony? Do I owe you now? Do you want the money back for all the private therapy? The private doctors you paid for to help fix me? News flash, Tony. They couldn't fix me and now you're in a fuck load of debt."

"Fuck you, Steven Hay!" Tony shouted for the first time like he was actually angry at the boy. "You know damned well I don't expect anything from you. I just didn't think you would make a bucket list like there was no hope."

Steven was crying now, Brendan could hear the sobs through the slightly ajar door, and something inside Brendan broke. He wanted to go in there and hold the kid, tell him whatever he needed to, something to stop the shattered sounds that came from him. The heartbreak and grief that emitted from his every pore.

"There isn't any hope. That doctor in Switzerland–"

"Is a money grabbing shit."

Things went silent after that, and when Brendan looked through the crack in the door, he could see Steven's face buried into Tony's chef whites as his shoulders shook with quiet, violent cries. Brendan felt out of place, he shouldn't have done this, this was wrong, so, so wrong. The man turned to leave them to it, just when he heard Tony ask a question that involved him.

"What are you doing with Brady?"

There was a sniffling sound, before Steven's voice came through, slightly hoarse from crying, "I don't know. He's so good to me, he doesn't deserve this."

"Have you told him?" Tony's voice sounded worried, and what was worse was that it sounded worried for Brendan.

"No, I don't plan to either."

"That's not fair, Ste, and you know it. I told you not to get into anything with him in the first place, but that man has been here nearly every day for the past three months. You can lie to yourself all you want by saying that you're protecting yourself and him by keeping him at a distance, but do you know what's worse? One day, you might not be here, and he will have no idea why. That will kill him more than losing you at all, and that protection is going to be what hurts him the most."

Ste laughed a little though his sniffing and muttered something about how he didn't know Tony cared about Brendan's feeling. The older man had snorted at that and told him he didn't care about Brendan, but he knew Ste would never want that for the older man, never want him to spend his life wondering.

By then, Brendan slumped down onto the floor, his back against the wall and his arms leaning on his knees. He had no clue what was going on, but whatever Steven was keeping from him was big enough that Tony Hutchinson, president of the I Hate Brendan Brady Club was trying to get Steven to open up. Whatever it was, was big and if the continuing conversation on the other side of the wall was voicing anything, it was that Steven still refused to tell him.

"Tony, we've talked about this. I won't get into a romantic relationship with him, I won't let us fall into that pit."

"Son, you're talking like you can control your feelings. You can't, much less his."

"Please, I'm interesting to him for now, but he'll probably get bored when I don't drop my pants for him like everyone else has. He'll go and he won't even notice if I'm there or not, just like he never noticed me before."

Brendan was angry now. Angry at Steven for undermining the significance he had in Brendan's life. Three months wasn't long, but he thought he had proved himself to be after more than just the boy's dick. Yes, he was attracted to Steven. Yes, if Steven let him, he would've liked to pursue a more physical relationship between them, because fuck yes, he wanted Steven in more ways than one. But that in no way made his emotional attachment to Steven less substantial. That in no way made Brendan care less for Steven, and Jesus, he cared more than he probably should. He cared for a boy who kept him at arm's length and shielded himself in an armour of glass, so that the world could see what he had to offer, but could never touch it.

Brendan was trying to water down his fury when the door swung open and Tony was there with a shocked expression and a demand to know what the hell he was doing there. Steven came to stand by his side to find out what the commotion was about, but when he realised Brendan had been sitting outside, his face paled and he swallowed down, turning his face away from Brendan. The older man remembered Steven telling him that was an old habit from childhood, when he still had his sight. He would look away like if he wasn't facing the other person, that person couldn't see him.

Brendan got up to his feet, his eyes on Steven the whole time. "Tony, do you mind if I speak to Steven for a moment?"

The chef was about to argue when the boy told him that it was okay. He wanted to talk to Brendan too. Tony didn't seem to like it, but he squeezed Steven's shoulder in an expression of solidarity and glowered at Brendan before he headed downstairs to the restaurant. Steven didn't invite Brendan in, and Brendan didn't ask, they both just stood there, in a silence that screamed to be filled with explanations, with the need for answers.

"How long have you been out here?" Steven asked, biting his nails and his baby blues piercing holes into the hardwood floor.

"For most of your argument," Brendan throat was sore for some reason, as if he had been the one that had been screaming the whole time.

Steven sighed and walked back into the flat, but left the door wide open to suggest that Brendan should follow. He stepped into the extremely modern apartment and was slightly surprised to see that the place had evidence of being a family home. It was still during school hours, so the kids who had left evidence of their existence all over the place were probably at school, and Tony's wife must've been at work. Brendan had thought that maybe Tony didn't have anyone, which was why he and Steven were so close. It seemed like Steven wasn't the family he never had, but an addition.

"What are you doing up here, Brady?" Steven's enquiry had Brendan's attention turning back to him, and the kid was frowning, his face spelling out anger. Well, he could join Brendan on that ride.

"The truth?" Brendan asked with bitterness lathering ever word. "Or are you incapable of recognising that?"

Steven's eyes widened as if the older man had physically struck him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you are hiding something from me, so I came up here to find out what the fuck is going on inside that head of yours. Only I find out that whatever it is, you have no intention of ever telling me."

"I have never lied to you, though, Brady. Ever." Steven's hands were fisted by his sides in an attempt to direct his wrath to his balled up hands, so as not to explode through his mouth.

Brendan laughed mirthlessly and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, even though Steven wouldn't be able to tell. "Congratulations, Steven, you know the difference between omitting and lying. He's a similarity between them, they both involve keeping something from someone."

Steven dragged a hand down his face as he shook his head with a humourless, bitter smile on his face. "You had no right coming up here. If I was keeping something from you, that doesn't mean you get to seek it out without my knowing. If I'm dishonest, then you're on the same fucking boat."

"I never intended to lie to you about this, though, did I?" Brendan shouted, his eyes wide, his heart on his sleeve. Fuck, when did that happen? "I just wanna know what's going on with you. And I get it, you don't trust me. You don't trust that I won't get bored and leave, but, fuck Steven, what do I have to do?"

Steven dropped his head, so that his chin was resting against his chest. He wasn't really talking to Brendan when he breathed a soft, "I don't know."

"Steven, I'm not going anywhere as long as you want to keep me around," If Steven believed anything he said, it had to be that. "Do you want me around?"

The boy didn't say anything for a while, and if Brendan's sole attention wasn't on him, he wouldn't have noticed that small movement of Steven's head that acknowledged that, yeah, he wanted Brendan around.

"Then why is it that not only can't you tell me the truth, but you can't recognise it when I tell you?"

Steven sat down on the sofa heavily, as if he was too exhausted to hold his own weight, and gravity and won the war he was trying to fight to stay standing up. "My dad, he left when I was a kid. Before any of this," he waved his hand over his face to signify the loss of his sight. "And he didn't know anything about it when it happened, but when I was fifteen he found me again, but I was too angry at life to let him back in. I blamed him for it because he wasn't around to stop it from happening to me, and eventually I cut him out all over again."

Steven lifted his head back up from staring at the ground and looked up at Brendan so earnestly, that it seemed like for that moment, Steven could actually see him. He was looking slightly past Brendan, but his eyes were so honest, so filled with feeling, so damn blue, that Brendan found that he just couldn't believe that they couldn't perceive. How did something so deep and telling, so bright only visualise blackness, only hear echoes in the dark?

"I don't know how to let people who weren't there from the start in." Steven cried tearlessly, the whites of his eyes shot with blood. "Tony, Amy, I never had to hand myself over to them. They are a part of me, I know they'll be here no matter what because they're like my arms or my legs. But how do I give myself away to someone when I'll never know if they'll leave me worse than blind?"

Brendan walked slowly over to Steven, and instead of sitting beside him on the sofa, he knelt down in front of the boy, taking the smaller hands into his. He leaned forward until his forehead was against Steven's, and the shimmering of a tear skated down the boy's eyes and trickled into his mouth.

"Steven, we have no idea what tomorrow holds. It's what homes our most untamed wishes and our inmost dreads. You can spend your life trying to foresee it, plan for it if you want, worry about it till you waste your whole life away. You can act like discovering it will make the reality of what's to come somehow easier when it arrives. But it's always altering, and the only thing that's assured is the fact that when tomorrow comes, it's nothing like we dreamt it."

That one tear that Steven had, lead a stream behind it. This was nothing like comforting his sister, something that was a duty tied neatly by strands of DNA and veins of blood. When Brendan pulled Steven in, he didn't do it out of some sense obligation, but a pull of bone deep need inside of him to have the boy close. More than that, Brendan needed it for himself.

He pulled away gently, and wiped his hands across Steven's cheek, "You don't have to tell me today. I'm not asking you to miraculously trust me. I'm just asking you to try. Just loosen a brick at a time from the wall around you."

Steven nodded with an unhappy, small smile on his face.

_"Ní bheidh mé in iúl duit dul."_

Xxx

Doug was eating cereal in the living room when Brendan entered – soaked from the rain outside – having buzzed him in and opened the front door for him. It was two in the afternoon on a weekday, what that guy was doing having breakfast at two pm was beyond Brendan. They had talked a few times in passing, Brendan knew next to nothing about him, and it wasn't a situation he cared to change anytime soon. The guy merely grunted a hello to Brendan when he noticed that he had come in, but he didn't turn away from whatever daytime TV program he was watching.

"Hey, is Steven around?" Brendan asked, when the American made no move to volunteer the information.

It had been nearly three weeks since the incident in Tony's flat. Steven gave him the silent treatment for a few days, and Brendan wasn't sure if he was merely using that time as space to think, or if he was still angry at Brendan for invading his privacy. It was a bad idea to listen in when he had no right to be there. Whatever was going on with Steven was exactly that, it was going on with him. Brendan couldn't demand the information, nor did he have any right to seek it out without Steven's permission.

The boy had been right when he called him dishonest, but it was a moment of weakness. He saw the way Steven had been with Danielle, Thayer and Casey, the bickering, the familiarity. He had that with Brendan too, but that day the older man had noticed the way the other three's eyes had shifted when Tony and Ste walked away together. Like they knew what was going to happen up there, like they knew something Brendan didn't. Because of that, no matter how much Steven told him that the group had welcomed him in, he felt like an outsider, and not just from the little circle, but from Steven's life. So yeah, he had a moment of weakness, one that he had learnt from.

"He's asleep. He had an appointment early this morning, he hasn't left the bed since he got home." Doug seemed unconcerned by the appointment, but it bothered Brendan.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah man, it was just routine. He has one every month."

That was another thing Brendan didn't know. He told himself it was okay. Over three months of friendship and seeing each other almost every day, and that was one of the many things Steven hadn't mentioned. But it was okay. Brendan learnt. He was not going to demand details about Steven's life.

"So everything is okay? No bad news?" Brendan was practically piercing holes into the side of Doug's face, but the other man just continued crunching on Cheerio's.

Doug shook his head slowly, scoffing as he did, and it wasn't a sign of amusement, but bitterness. When Brendan just continued to stare at him, expecting an answer, the American turned his head around and finally looked at Brendan. His gaze seemed to be searching for something in the older man's face, and whatever it was that he was looking for must not have been there. His eyes slightly widened and he promptly looked away, coughing, as if that would clear up the tension that had started to saturate the air.

"Hey, you should probably talk to him if you wanna know the details. I stopped asking a long time ago when he kept answering me with a shrug."

Brendan nodded solemnly as thunder crackled outside, and rain threatened to shatter the windows. The American turned his attention back to the TV, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that it was no longer because he was absorbed in the show, rather an avoidance tactic of having to converse about Steven. Brendan let it go, he promised that he would only accept information about Steven from Steven himself.

He sighed and left the front of the house, and walked down the hallway to the end where Steven's room was situated. The door wasn't locked when Brendan twisted the handle to enter, so the boy must've been asleep, as opposed to moping in private. Then again, he did most of his moping in the sculpting room.

The bedroom was filled with light when Brendan entered and he saw Steven's body sprawled in the middle, sleeping on his stomach. He had his mouth slightly agape on the pillow, drooling a small wet patch onto the light grey pillow covers. He should've done what friends do and thrown something at his head to wake him up, or have been really loud to give him a heart attack like he did that day they went to the beach.

Instead, he crawled up onto the bed, in all his wet glory – Steven was going to kill him for soaking the bedcovers – until he reached Steven's ear. He wanted to kiss the soft skin behind his earlobes, and he wanted to nuzzle his cold nose into the crook of Steven's neck, he wanted to lie down beside him and have fucking pillow talk.

He didn't do any of that. He put his lips close to Steven's ear and whispered his name to wake him up. The boy burrowed further into his pillow and grumbled something like five more minutes. It made Brendan smile. He hooked his chin over the kid's shoulder and settled down beside him.

"Steven," Brendan repeated in a hushed voice.

"What?" The words weren't clear through the sleepy slurs, but Brendan understood.

"Can you hear that?"

Steven huffed and pushed Brendan's head away from his shoulder, before he twisted around so that he was lying on his back, his face to the side towards Brendan. The older man mirrored the position, aware that their faces were only inches apart. There was no way Steven couldn't feel the older man's breath on him. The boy kept his eyes closed, but Brendan couldn't find it in himself to mimic that, he always liked looking at Steven.

"I can't hear anything."

"Listen." The instruction was more hot air than anything, and when Steven smiled at the way it made the hair on his forehead dance, Brendan ignored the circus in his gut.

It took a few moments before Steven's sleep soft smile widened into a grin. "It's raining."

"It's Noah's second coming."

Steven laughed at that. Actually, he laughed so hard he had to get up and double over a little bit. Brendan didn't make a move. He stayed lying down and listened, a small smile across his own lips. When the boy finally started calming down, he crawled out of bed like his limbs weighed a tonne and told Brendan that he was changing the bedcovers for him because he better not think the kid didn't notice the wetness.

Brendan told him whatever, they had more pressing matters at hand. Steven tried to pull on some jeans, but Brendan just grabbed the item of clothing from his hand and tossed it aside, ignoring the younger man's protest. Alternatively, he clutched Steven's hand and dragged him through the house in his boxers and white t-shirt, which Brendan absolutely did not want to bury his nose into and fill his lungs with the scent of.

He gave a prompt goodbye to Doug, who was now eating a banana and Doritos heatwave. Together. Brendan may have gagged a little as he passed by. The American waved without looking at them, not even noticing that his roommate didn't have any shoes on. Steven fruitlessly and half-heartedly complained, but it became redundant when he sniggered through it.

Brendan popped Steven into the passenger's side of his car and drove them to his club where he had made Rhys broom the outside courtyard. He didn't want the boy cutting his feet on anything. By the time Brendan undid his seatbelt and got out of the car, Steven was already out and standing a few feet away from him. His arms were wide open and he tilted his head back, so he was facing up towards the sky with his eyes closed as the rain showered down on him.

The older man had thought he had gotten used to the beauty of the boy. But right then, with Steven's hair swept back from his face, his shorts and t-shirt clinging to him like a second skin, and his fingers dancing to the pounding of the rain, Brendan thought he'd never get used to anything Steven Hay. He blinked away from the image and plucked his phone from the pocket inside of his suit jacket and called Rhys. The bartender picked up on the first ring.

"Hey boss, you back?" Came the greeting from the other side of the phone.

"Yeah, put it on now." Brendan waited for affirmation from Rhys before he hung up and popped his phone back into his pocket. Then he took off his blazer completely and stuffed it back in his car.

Steven was jumping a little on the ground, presumably to feel the splash of water beneath his toes, when music started to escape through speakers that extended outside of the club. He stopped immediately, the smile on his face freezing as he tilted his head so that his ear was in the direction of the music.

Brendan took hold of both Steven's hands and linked them together behind his neck, wrapping his own arms around the boy's waist. "Dance in the rain barefoot, wasn't it? You can't dance without music, Steven."

The boy didn't say anything as Brendan swayed them to the music, just stared up at him with his mouth open and his expression something like wonderment. Brendan wished he'd stop doing that, looking like he could see through skin and bone, right into the core.

If the boy had said he wanted more from Brendan, now would have been the time that he leant in and kissed the red, pouty mouth closed. Now would've been the moment he found out if Steven's mouth was as sweet as it looked, as soft as it appeared.

He didn't though. He pushed Steven away until he could twirl him around, forcing the rain from his hair to go flying into Brendan's mouth. He pulled him in again, and this time they started moving their feet along to the music as well. They probably looked like weirdos, Brendan dressed semi smart in a dress shirt and slacks, and Steven in his sleep clothes. But Brendan didn't care about anything else other than the smile that had overcome Steven's mouth. He twirled him around again, faster this time, kindling laughter from the boy, before drawing him back in. They carried on like that until who knows how long. Steven leaned his head against Brendan's shoulder and just continued on like he wanted to be there forever.

"That's four things off your list now." Yeah, Steven eventually managed to learn a little bit of Irish, consisting of how to say his name, his hobbies and ask for the toilet.

"Five." Steven corrected, his head still against Brendan's shoulder.

"Five?"

"Yeah, be amazed."

Brendan frowned a little in confusion. "What did you find that was so amazing?"

Steven didn't speak for a little while and a part of Brendan thought maybe he had fallen asleep, whilst dancing. When Brendan was mentally preparing to carry the boy back into the car, Steven's grip behind is neck got slightly tighter, and Brendan had to press in closer to him.

"_You're_ amazing," came Steven's answer.


	6. In The Mind's Eye

**Chapter 6**

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tony asked Ste as they headed for the chef's car.

It was ten in the morning and Ste really just wanted to head back to his house and sleep the morning away, as he did every time he had one of these appointments. He never really wanted to talk after, because they had done all that the first time, there was nothing more to say. Tony wanted him to open up, to go to counselling if he preferred talking to a stranger, but ultimately he just had nothing left to say.

"I just want to go to bed."

The car ride was mostly silent, with Tony occasionally making suggestions about what Ste could do for the rest of his day. They could go out for breakfast. He could come round later when the twins were home and spend time with them, he always liked playing big brother to them. He could do this, do that, do anything that didn't mean he was wasting away into his mattress.

"Do you wanna go to the club?" Tony asked hesitantly, as if the words tasted acidic in his mouth.

Ste snorted and started messing about with the radio, "first, aren't over your clubbing days? I don't think your back could handle much more. Second, it's a tad early to go to the club, they're not even open to the public at this time."

Beside him, the chef let out a loud, sarcastic _Ha Ha_ in a way that said he thought Ste was a little shit, who wasn't as funny as he thought he was. "My back can handle a lot, just ask Dianne –"

"That's disgusting. Please just stop talking, for the sake of my stomach."

"Also," Tony carried on forcefully, pretending Ste hadn't even spoken. "I didn't mean to go clubbing, I meant…" The man paused and Ste could hear him shuffling in the driver's side as he dithered, clearly not wanting to say the next words. "Do you want to go see Brady? Apparently that thug makes you feel better."

Ste sighed loudly and drew both his hands down his face, "he's not a thug. He's done nothing to prove that he is."

Ste didn't need to see in order to be able to tell that Tony was probably rolling his eyes, "Let's just forget about the amount of police attention that man gets then, shall we?"

"Yeah, but he has never been charged with anything."

"When do people like that ever get charged? They always have some way of worming out of it. A favour here, a threat there and bam, they have an alibi for a murder, where all evidence points to them."

"He's never been suspected of murder."

Tony chuckled beside him, "I know. I was just making a point. Forget it, do you wanna go there or not?"

Ste thought about it for a second. He did want to see Brady, the man was the only one that wouldn't ask him how his date in the hospital was. That was perhaps mainly because he knew nothing about it, but Brady knew what to say and what not to say regardless. He knew something was going on, but if he felt that Ste didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't enquire. And yeah, there was the episode in Tony's flat where maybe that had all gotten too much for the older man. The desire to know what was going on with Ste, but not being able to ask Ste himself. Except, the younger man was a little to blame himself there, he knew that. How was he supposed to expect Brady to be in his life without letting the older man know about his life?

"Yeah," Ste mainly spoke to himself when he affirmed that he's like to see the bar owner.

He should tell Brady the whole thing. All of it. But what if he ran? What if he didn't want to deal with all that? Worse, though, what if he stayed and had to cope after? Not telling the older man was selfish because it was keeping him in the dark, but telling him and having him stay could prove to be all that more self-serving. Ste would have him by his side, but Brady wouldn't have that back.

The car slowed down to a stop outside of the club, and he heard Tony get out before he could do the same himself. The chef rounded the car and opened the door for him, holding out his elbow, so that Ste could hold on to it and he could guide the younger man. It was an old habit that refused to die; Tony always felt the need to stay close when he was sending Ste off somewhere he was worried would overwhelm him. First day back to school. First day at counselling, therapy. The first time he dropped Ste off at a restaurant for a date. That was not fun for anyone involved.

They went up the stairs slowly, and when they got to the top, Ste bid his boss goodbye as nicely as he could without having to boot him down the stairs. Tony hovered a while before agreeing to leave him to it, he had work anyway. Ste rolled his eyes before turning around after the footsteps disappeared and he heard the car drive off.

He probably should've knocked on the door, as opposed to just pushing it open and entering, but the older man had practically claimed one of the stools as his in the restaurant, so Ste thought it was fair that he could treat this place how he wanted, too. The bar wasn't empty and Ste knew that he was on the upper floor of the club, so there was every possibility that the older man was downstairs, but the office was here, so Ste had no qualms about stepping forward.

"Ste?" That wasn't Brady's voice. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I –" Shit, Ste didn't like it when he couldn't recognise a voice. It made him feel panicked and unsure about his whereabouts. It wasn't so bad when he expected to hear unfamiliar voices, like at the restaurant, he knew that he would hear voices he hadn't heard before. But it was different when he went somewhere expecting one thing, but hearing another. And this voice knew who he was, yet he had no clue.

"Hey, hey," the voice got closer and Ste had to fight the urge to run. "It's Rhys, I work here."

Ste's heart rate begun to slow down and he nodded, but his head felt like it weighed more than his entire body, so he probably ended up looking slightly deranged. "Sorry, I forgot that there would be other people here this early. I only expected Brady, so it freaked me out a little."

There was chuckling from Rhys, however, it seemed forced, like he was doing it in an attempt to diffuse the tension Ste had created. He walked away again and Ste took that as his cue to follow the man to what ended up being the bar. He took a seat there while Rhys asked him if he wanted something to drink. He wasn't allowed to serve alcohol until four, but he could make Ste a mocktail or something. Ste politely declined and asked him where his boss was instead. The bartender seemed tentative to answer, opting to ask Ste if he was sure that he didn't want anything to drink.

"No thanks," okay, Ste wasn't so polite this time. "Just your boss."

"You like him, huh?" Rhys asked, trying to deflect the request for the bar owner. "He really likes you. Swear down, he has never gone to the lengths he's gone for you. Bastard made me sweep the courtyard in the rain two weeks ago. I made it worth my while though, Jacqui and I have loads of pictures of him all puppy eyes over you while you were in the rain. We're gonna use it as leverage for time off or an advance."

Ste thought he was supposed to laugh at that, so that's what he did. It wouldn't take Einstein to know that he didn't actually care all that much. He didn't find any of that amusing. Brady had gone beyond any expectations Ste had of him that day. And it was the day that he realised Tony was right. He couldn't control his feelings, and fuck him, because despite all his efforts, Ste had feelings for the older man. More dangerously, he thought maybe Brady had feelings for him too, feelings that maybe didn't revolve around his libido.

"That's great, Rhys. Where is he?" Ste asked, with a tone finality.

"He, uh – he's in his office."

That didn't sound so bad. Ste jumped off of the stool and was about to head in the direction he was sure the office was at, but when he tried, he collided with a body. To be more precise, he collided with Rhys' body, who had rounded the bar in lightning speed.

"He's in a meeting, you can't go in there yet?"

Eleven years as a blind person, Ste knew what deception sounded like when he heard it. He couldn't rely on ticks and twitches, all he had were pitches and speed. And Rhys' voice got high and fast when he lied.

"What's going on, Rhys? What's he doing in there?"

There was a sigh and the tapping of feet being moved from side to side. "Look, I don't really know, but he's in there with some guy. They've been in there for a while. He said no one was allowed to go in and no one was allowed to disturb under any circumstances. He doesn't normally do that with meetings."

Ste swallowed down dread. He knew this was going to happen, he fucking knew it. Brady was in there fucking some dude, and here Ste was having stupid feelings for him. He couldn't even feel justified in being angry because he told the older man that they were nothing but friends, Brady had every right to sleep with whoever he wanted. As his friend, Ste was supposed to have a beer with him, congratulate him on his latest conquest. They were supposed to laugh together about how easy it was for Brady to pull, then rate how good this one was in the sack. What Ste was not supposed to do, is feel his heart crush in his chest and have bile crawl its way up his throat.

"What does – is he – are they – is he having sex in there?" It seemed like Ste was something of a masochist.

"I don't know. Shit, look Ste, he really likes you –"

Ste didn't wait to hear the rest, he turned and started to walk out, even as he heard what was probably Rhys' fists pounding against Brady's office door. Well, Ste'd rather not be around to see Brady bite the barman's head off for not being able to get his rocks off. He was half way across the courtyard when a hand gripped his arm and spun him around. He really wished he had his white cane in his hand rather than his pocket, he would've used it to whack the older man off of him.

He was about to mouth off when the person who said his name, again, sounded nothing like Brady. But this time, the voice was definitely familiar.

"Danny?" Ste asked, half frozen.

"Hey kid," Danny sounded relieved, almost like he wasn't sure that Ste would recognise his voice after all these years.

"What are you doing here?" Ste questioned as his dad let go of his arm, allowing him to straighten up and turn towards his father properly.

"Your friend, he called me, said you wanted to talk, but I did one further and came down. But then I got nervous in case you shut me out again, so he was just letting me get a grip in his office."

Ste frowned and took a step closer to Danny, "you were the one in his office?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed, like his son might be a bit simple.

"And you weren't having sex with him?" Not an appropriate question to ask his father, but Danny was bi and it wasn't like Ste had a father son bond with the man.

"Jesus, Steven!" Brady's scandalised exclamation came out of nowhere, and at a distant to where Ste stood with his dad, so he must've have been observing everything from afar.

Danny, however, chuckled, "Son, you do know I'm married, right? With three daughters."

Ste cut him out, that's how it had been. He had left all those years back because he was a shit person, but he came back, and it was Ste who refused to learn anything about his father or share anything about himself. So it was unfounded that he should feel hurt by the fact that he knew nothing about his father's new family. But he did, more than that, he felt betrayed that his father had a wife and kids that he had stuck by, whereas he had left Ste and his mum.

"I have sisters?" Ste asked, choosing to see the good in what actually stung like a motherfucker.

"Yeah, three. And a niece."

Ste shifted from foot to foot, not sure what to do with this information. He wanted to talk to his dad, that was one of the things he had told Brady to put on the list. However, now that he was faced with it, he had no clue what to do. All the other things were easy, because Brady had been there doing the things with him. Ste planted a tree with Brady. He swam in the sea with him. Learnt a language with him. Danced in the fucking rain in his boxers and t shirt with him. Was amazed_ by_ him.

But this, this he had no clue. Ste had no idea when he became reliant on the older man, but to venture this new endeavour felt terrifying not to do it with Brady. It felt wrong.

"Why don't we go back inside?" Brady asked from wherever he was standing.

Ste silently nodded and brushed past his father to the staircase, Danny following close behind. Brady must've been standing at the bottom of the stairs, because when his footsteps started to make noise, it was against the steel of the steps. None of them spoke as they made their way back into the club, the only sound was of footsteps and clinking of glass bottles. Ste was in the office with his father when Brady said he'd leave them to it, but as the older man turned to leave, Ste grabbed hold of Brady's sleeve to stop him.

"Stay," Ste requested, his tone slightly pleading.

The older man didn't say anything for a moment before he cleared his throat and agreed. They both sat on the sofa that was in the office, whilst Danny took a seat on a chair. They didn't talk about anything serious, just a little catch up. Ste's sisters were named after Doctor Who companions apparently, but Ste couldn't appreciate that in the way his father did, he hadn't watched a Doctor Who episode in his life… well, he hadn't listened to one in his life. His niece was apparently named the same way. They all knew about him, because Danny seemingly didn't want to hide his existence, and if Ste ever got there, they would love to meet him too.

Ste didn't really say much. He made affirmative sounds when needed and he probably agreed to meet his sisters, one day, but he couldn't be sure. He told the man about Amy, and the trio at work. He mentioned Tony, but he didn't want to upset Danny by talking about just how close he was to his boss.

After the light chatter, Danny had gotten slightly more serious. He began to apologise for everything, told Ste that he had left Pauline because she was a drunk and kept cheating on him, but he never left Ste. Pauline had, however, moved away with him just to spite Danny, and that's how his father lost him in the first place. Ste knew all that, well he didn't know the part about Danny not leaving him, but he did know why he left Pauline. Ste had confronted his mother when Danny first came back, and the woman had wept and begged for his forgiveness. She never meant to deprive him of his dad, she just hated Danny for leaving her, and once she was gone, it was too late.

Ste had stopped talking to his mother after that, but then she fell ill and he had no other family. He wanted to be angry at her, but he knew that she lived with the guilt of what had happened to him, blamed herself for it. So when she was on her dying bed, he stayed with her until her last breath. Forgiving his mother was easier than forgiving Danny back then. He hated the life she built for them, but he hated Danny more, because Ste used to wish so hard that his father had taken him along when he left. He was stuck with Pauline _because_ of Danny.

Ste sighed and waved his father's apologies away. He was tired, tired of being angry at people, angry at life, so when his father started crying over how he wished he could've been there, so Ste would never had to have suffered, he found himself drawing his father into a hug. And he felt light. It was so much harder to forgive someone than it was to stay resentful, but the outcome of understanding was always so much better. Sometimes forgiving the ones that hurt us is way more painful than what we felt in the first place. But it's forgiveness that allows recovery from that suffering.

By the time Danny left, Ste felt drained. He sat in Brady's office with his face buried in his hands, as the older man went to see his father of. Upon his return, Brady nudged him gently to get him to sit up, then placed a cold beer in Ste's hand. He was so close to telling the bar owner that it was too early for alcohol, but the soft music coming from the club floor told him that it was probably well into the afternoon. He hadn't even realised the time flying by. In addition, Ste had hijacked Brady's office, probably preventing him from doing any work all day. He had sat by Ste the whole time.

"You called me dad," Ste stated the obvious.

Brady sat down beside him again, but this time not as close as he had been before. "Yeah, I'm sorry if that was out of order. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't a prick before we crossed that off your list. Doug hunted the number down from your phone and I just –"

"Just shut up." Ste said, his tone tinged with amusement. He took a sip of the beer, then placed the cool bottle on his cheek. The office was way too hot. "Thank you."

Brady gave a nervous laugh, like he wasn't used to people thanking him, even after all the gratitude Ste had expressed to him for everything. "You're welcome."

They didn't say anything for a few moments, the silence comfortable. Then Ste turned his head around to where Brady was sitting beside him and asked the question that had been bothering him since the day they went to plant the tree.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What?" Brady asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Helping me without asking for anything back. I asked you to do a few things with me and you go up and beyond. You didn't have to do the plaque. You didn't have to drive me all the way to Wales. You didn't have to any of the shit, but you did. Why?"

Brady stayed quiet, and then Ste felt him get up from the sofa. He was going to leave, he was going to avoid the question and just leave Ste hanging, but then the older man simply just closed the office door, which Ste hadn't even realised was open despite the music seeping through. The bar owner sat back down and this time he was close to Ste, their shoulder touching, and their knees knocking against one another.

"Why did you get so upset when you thought I was sleeping with someone else?" Brady asked as a way of answer, and that was enough. "Steven, I can't answer that question because you don't want me to. You want me to lie and tell you something that'll make it easier for you to push me away, and I'm not going to do that."

Ste nodded vigorously and stood up. His head was beginning to hurt and that was never a good sign, he hadn't even gone home to have his medication. He needed to get back to his flat, and do something. Maybe sculpt. He hadn't done that in a while because Brady took up all his free time. Too much time away from his studio made his fingers twitch and his insides hurt, it was a way of him expressing himself, and hadn't done anything in over four months.

"I'm gonna go," Ste said, placing his beer on the desk and leaving the office without even waiting to see if Brady had heard.

He was at the bottom of the stairs and getting his cane out when Brady came up behind him and said he'd drive him home. A part of Ste wanted to say no, but a larger part wanted the man around him now, around him later, around him forever. Shit.

The car ride was silent, they almost always drove in silence. There was always something therapeutic about the humming of the engine that calmed Ste down. Brady didn't leave the car when they got back to Ste's, so Ste couldn't get himself to move either. This co-dependency thing was unhealthy and eventually it was going to leave one or the other in pieces.

"Do you want to come up?" Ste asked, when Brady made no move to kick Ste out of the car.

"Are you sure?"

Ste nodded and opened his side of the car, not allowing room for argument. The driver's side of the door opened and closed signalling that Brady had gotten out too. They went back to silence as they made their way up the building and to Ste's flat. He offered the customary beverage once they were inside, but the older man declined and they both just sort of stood there.

"I – I think I'm gonna do some work in the studio, if you wanna watch or something. It's not gonna be fun or anything, but I swear a lot." Ste smiled, trying to seem welcoming.

Brady gave a throaty laugh that caused something to flip in Ste's stomach, and Ste just wanted to stab it out.

"Sure," the man said as he walked past Ste and headed for the studio room.

He made the older man take off his blazer, and put an apron on. He even offered him some sweats and an old t-shirt, but Brady told him that he didn't mind. Also, he was pretty sure none of Ste's clothes would actually fit him. Brady watched more or less in silence, whilst Ste tried to make something, but as promised he swore a lot and punched the clay before restarting his attempts. There was a lot of huffing and sweating on Ste's part, and a lot of chuckling on Brady's.

"Look, do you want me to help somehow?" The older man eventually asked, when Ste squished his semi built sculpture for the eighth time.

"How?" Ste was scowling at his piece with his hands on his hips, mentally planning a way to destroy the clay.

"Do you want me to leave? Maybe it's me." Brady asked so earnestly, like he really thought he was a problem.

"NO!" The word came out a little louder and more sudden than expected.

Ste didn't even realise he had grabbed onto the older man's bare forearms. He must've rolled his shirt up to his elbows. Skin on skin contact with Brady always made Ste get goose bumps, and before he knew it, he was gliding his clay covered hand all the way up to Brady's elbow. There was an intake of breath above Ste's head, and the noise had Ste's head snapping up. There was never a time in the past eleven years that Ste had wanted to see more in his life.

"You need to stop doing that." Brady said, like he was finding it hard to breathe.

"What?" There was no one home, but both of them spoke like they were sharing a secret that they didn't even want the wind to hear.

"Looking at me like you can see right through me." Brady had stepped closer and his scent was making Ste dizzy, and his heat had him wanting to crawl into the older man and just lay his head against his heart.

Ste let go of the man's elbow and slowly lifted both his hands to the older man's face. He gently placed his fingers to Brady's eyes and felt the flutter of his eyelashes as the man closed them beneath Ste's fingertips. He slid his fingers all the way down and over Brady's cheekbones, then let his thumb swipe across lips and chin.

Ste turned back to his clay and grabbed another mound before wetting it with lukewarm water to make them easier to mould. He manipulated the clay this way and that, then turned back to Brady and placed his hands onto the older man's face again. If the bar owner had any qualms about getting dirty, he didn't say anything. He was so still, Ste wondered whether he was breathing, but when he slid his fingers over Brady's nose and below it, he felt him inhaling and exhaling.

For what felt like hours, Brady just sat there and let Ste's hands roam his face before switching his attention to the clay. Ste let that darkness behind his eyes be filled with the shape of Brady's lips, his sharp nose, and he really did have a moustache. He let it all litter his mind, like petals strewn across the blank spaces in his head that were reserved just for the older man. He curved his hands into the clay, slid along it, and shaped it until he could replicate what he saw in his mind's eye.

Ste swept his hand through Brady's hair and felt the warmth of the older man's breath as he almost whimpered at the feel of Ste's fingers sweeping through the strands. Ste brought his hand down and traced his fingertips over the shell of Brady's ears and kneaded his lobes. He explored every crevice, every wrinkle, every frown line and pore, until there wasn't a miniscule part of Brady's face that was left undiscovered.

The clay allowed his hands to drift from one place to another with ease, and soon Ste felt his slippery hands glide down the nape of Brady's neck and around to his throat. He felt the older man's Adam's apple bob beneath his palm as Brady swallowed and took in a shallow shaky breath. The clay made the movement slick and almost like there was no skin beneath Ste's fingers, the bumps and bones vivid beneath his touch. He slithered the fingers back around to the nape of Brady's neck and interlocked both his hands together before drawing the man in closer, until Ste could rest his forehead against the wet of Brady's.

"I can see. Inside my head, I can see you." Ste exhaled the words, to say them was like to breathe.

Brady stayed close to him, wrapped his arms around Ste's waist and pulled him in. The older man brushed his nose against the length of Ste's, allowing them to slip and slide against one another. He backed away and placed the barest of kisses to one eye then the other. There was hardly any contact, just the softest brush of lips against skin, but everything in Ste stood to attention for that split second. His nails dug into the flesh of Brady's nape, and the older man's arms tightened, before relaxing completely and backing away.

"I need a shower," Brady's voice was gravelly, like it wasn't ready to speak, or it was trying to keep back the words he did want to speak.

Ste nodded, clearing his head away, it still hurt from earlier. He used one of the many towels he had to wipe away his hands, then grabbed another towel and wet it with warm water before placing it over the bust in progress. He would have to come back to it later, but it was okay because the details of Brady's face were ingrained into his mind. It wasn't something he'd forget anytime soon, or ever for that matter.

He took off his apron and told Brady to follow him as he led the older man to his bedroom. There was a proper bathroom, with a bathtub and everything, but Ste never really ventured there. He had a massive en-suite in his room. It seemed like having a lack of sight entitled him to the best room with the best features. Plus, the government paid to make his bathroom all big and fancy.

Once there, he brought out a couple of towels from his closet and passed them over to the older man, who grunted as a way of thanks. He stood there for a minute or two, before Ste heard the door to the en-suite open and close. There was no lock in that room, so Ste didn't wait to hear the click of it before the sound of the shower came on.

Ste was supposed to have left then, he should've gone back to his sculpture, their sculpture. Worked the finer details. Instead, he fell onto his bed, his back hitting the mattress was a small thump. His ears, however, were more tuned into the sound of water running, the hissing of the hot water, and he was very conscious to the detail that Brady was in there. Right now. In all his vulnerability.

Ste stood up and his hands were on the door handle, without him even being aware of his movements. He was leaving, that's what he was doing, he was going. Except, when he opened the door, it wasn't the cool of the hallway that greeted him, but the steam of the bathroom. He pushed through his nerves and lifted one quaking hand to slide open the glass door to the shower.

"Steven?" Brady didn't sound surprised by Ste's presence, rather afraid. Like the next few moments were make or break.

"Hi," Ste's voice cracked, his hands still on the glass door.

"Hey."

"Is this a bad idea?" Ste asked, because if there was ever a time he had to know if he shouldn't do something, it was now.

"I don't know," Brady breathed. "But I'd rather regret than wonder."

Ste's nails scraped across the glass and he was breathing heavier than was probably normal. Make or break.

"Fuck," Ste huffed, but the word was lost in the searing clash of lips against his.

Brady kissed the way his nature was, with an intensity that left Ste fighting for air, but enjoying the burn of drowning in everything that was the older man. There was no tongue, just the sliding of moist lips, and desperate sounds. Brady snaked his arms around Ste's waist and pulled him in until they were flush against one another, under the hammering of the shower. Ste was still in all his clothes, but he could feel every inch of Brady against him, every part of his skin burning through to Ste's.

Kissing Brady was like how it felt when he put his shower on scorching and just stood beneath the torrent. It burnt, and it made his breath catch in his throat, it set fire to all the nerve endings embedded into his skin, but for those moments all his cells screamed to let him know he was alive. Each stroke of Brady's fingers was like a lick of flame, making his back arch and his mouth make sounds like he wanted to tear his skin from his body because it was too tight.

He felt the older man's tongue slide out and swipe against his bottom lip, and when Ste opened up for him, Brady's tongue trickled like honey into Ste's mouth. He didn't feel like he was burning anymore, but like the older man was unadulterated heat and he was made of pure wax, melting and moulding into Brady's hold.

Brady pulled back marginally and bit Ste's bottom lip, tugged at it until the younger man made a wanton noise. Ste lolled his head back as the older man began to place open mouthed kisses onto his neck, sucked the water that flowed there and scraped his teeth against skin. His hands travelled to the hem of Ste's t-shirt and pulled at it before Ste backed away and took the thing off completely.

He was about to go back in, when Brady's hand on his chest stopped him, "Steven, your nose is bleeding."


	7. Crimson Halo

**Chapter 7**

"Did I elbow you or something? I might've gotten a bit carried away."

Brendan tried to observe the bleeding nose, but Steven shrugged out of the older man's reach and stepped out of the shower, his pants dripping water all over the tiled floors. He didn't say anything, just sighed as he sat on top of the loo and pulled out some toilet paper to absorb the blood streaming down his nose. There was a lot, far too much to just be the common, spontaneous nose bleed.

"You should get dressed and go." Steven mumbled into the bundle of tissue over his mouth and nose.

Brendan pulled one of the towels from the rack where he had placed them and wrapped it around his waist before he went to kneel in front of the boy. He slowly removed Steven's hand from the tissue and replaced it with his own, tilting the kid's head back as he did. Steven nudged the older man's hands away and shook his head, pulling out more paper to apply pressure on his nose.

"There's too much blood." Steven's voice was nasally due to the compression being placed on his cavity. "It'll go down to my throat if I tilt my head back. Knowing my luck, I'll choke on it."

"Shall we go to the hospital?" Brendan suggested, when the entire tissue bundle in the boy's hand became a stark crimson.

Steven shook his head again and exhaled loudly as he pulled the toilet paper away from his nose and examined the facial feature with his fingers instead to see if the flow had stopped. "It doesn't need medical attention unless it lasts longer than a few minutes."

The boy stood up and dumped the blood infused tissues into the bin before flushing it away. He walked over to the sink, and with cold water, washed his face clean of any evidence of his nosebleed, scrubbing hard on the space over his lips. Brendan simply observed him for a while as he took a seat on the now vacated toilet, not sure what to do. Steven had told him to leave, but there was no real feeling to it, and Brendan was more afraid that he'd upset Steven if he really did go.

Steven continued to wash his face, even after it was fully cleansed. Initially, Brendan thought it was perhaps because the boy didn't know that he had washed away all the red, but after a while his hands became more aggressive on his skin. He wasn't simply washing, but was scrubbing at his skin, making it raw and sensitive. When Brendan reached out to stop him, the lad dragged his nails over the lids of his eyes and down his face.

Brendan grabbed his hands to stop him, but Steven pushed him aside and dropped to the floor, his back against the cool wall of the bathroom and his knees brought up to his chest. Brendan didn't think he drew any blood when he scratched himself, but there were definitely red lines down his face. The kid leaned his head down onto his knees, but Brendan could see the quiver of his shoulder and realised that he was crying.

"I can't even kiss you properly without being a massive freak about it," Ste muttered into the core of his foetal position, his nose stuffy from the crying.

Brendan sat on the ground in front of the boy and attempted to get him to look up, but he was stubborn in his refusal. "Everyone gets nosebleeds, Steven."

Steven snorted and dragged his hands down his face as he lifted his head back up. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was in disarray. He looked an exhausted mess, and Brendan wanted to do nothing more than tuck him away in bed and force him to sleep for twenty four hours at the very least. However, Steven didn't look like he wanted the sleep, he looked like he wanted to lash out.

"Does everyone continue to get nose bleeds eleven years after a head injury?" Steven asked with a scowl across his face. His tone was clearly rhetorical, but it was as if he was daring Brendan to attempt to answer so he could be angry at someone.

"If it's because of that, we need to get you to a hospital, Steven." Brendan almost pleaded. He knew next to fuck all about head traumas, but he did know that emergency attention was required when any evidence of it became apparent.

Steven stood up, forcing Brendan to back away a little. "You know what I need, I need you to go. I need you to leave, like now."

The older man stood up and tried to get the boy to calm down, but he simply stormed out of the bathroom. Brendan dropped his towel where he was and pulled on his boxers and slacks from earlier, omitting the shirt when he heard a clatter from somewhere in the house. Afraid that Steven had injured himself, Brendan practically sprinted to where the noise came from.

The boy hadn't technically hurt himself, but he was definitely hurting. He pulled open the kitchen cupboards and threw out all the perfectly placed items in there. Brendan assumed Doug was going to have to put everything back accordingly to make sure the kid knew where everything was again. He chucked a pot full of what looked like pasta leftovers across the kitchen, the sauce splattering across the white walls. Brendan wasn't sure why Steven was so upset, but the lad was on a path to destroying half the kitchen.

He grabbed Steven's hand as it reached for the fucking knife holders and pulled him in until both his arms were almost crushed against Brendan's chest, as he held the boy close. "Jesus, what the hell, Steven?"

Steven struggled for a few minutes until he relaxed into the heat of Brendan's body, and the older man could feel the distinct wetness of tears against the naked skin of his shoulder. "Are you freaked out yet?"

Brendan frowned in confusion as he pulled the boy away, but still held on to his upper arm to keep him from leaving the older man's vicinity. "What are you going on about?"

"Have I freaked you out, yet?" Steven asked. His face was wet from tears, but he was no longer crying. He had a determination in his eyes that terrified Brendan. "Are you gonna fuck off yet?"

"Do you mind filling me in, Steven, because I have no idea what is going on right now." Brendan almost shouted. He was getting angry now too, because for some reason, he was the bad guy here to Steven's good. He had no idea what to do, and the only thing left was wrath.

"You wanna know what's going on?" Steven forced his way out of the hold Brendan had on him and marched over to where a few plates sat on the drying rack. He picked one up and hurled it across the room before screaming till the veins in his throat became far too visible to be considered safe. "What's wrong is that I can't give you the happy ever after you seem to think you can have with me. I can't give you the forever you act like to _want _with me!"

"You know what, fine." Brendan shouted back, just as furious. "I want you, that's painfully fucking clear. But you kissed me back there, so what do _you _want from _me_?! You're sending out so many signals, the fucking satellites orbiting earth are getting shitting confused."

Brendan hated the feeling of getting angry at Steven, but he was at a loss. Steven said he didn't want anything romantic and Brendan respected that. But Steven called him amazing in the rain, and Brendan so badly wanted to kiss him then, though, he didn't. The boy did that thing with the stupid clay after saying he hadn't made a facial sculpture since his mother's death, and Brendan still walked away. It was the boy who kissed him, eventually, and now five minutes later, they were screaming at each other like they could spit fire.

"You want a clear message?" Steven was practically panting now, his bare chest rising and falling heavily. "Get the fuck out of my flat. Get the fuck out of my life."

If Steven had yelled the words, Brendan might've stayed. But the boy was so cold, each syllable from his mouth forming icicles that pierced right through him. He dragged a hand down his face and laughed mirthlessly, shook his head and then collected his remaining items of clothing before he headed for the door. He tried to avoid looking at the boy as he passed, but his traitor consciousness was tuned into the kid. He couldn't help noticing how Steven was a mere huddle of flesh and bones in the corner of the kitchen, his shoulder violently shaking with sobs.

Brendan left, and Steven didn't stop him.

He left his blazer in the car and had his shirt buttoned up only half way when he made it to the club. Rhys gave him a pointed look, and Jacqui had her concerned face on as he stalked in, but whatever expression he had on his face prevented them from actually asking him anything. He ordered one of them to bring him a bottle of Jameson and a glass immediately to his office, and the pair instantaneously looked at one another as if to say the other had to do it.

Brendan slammed the door shut when he entered his office and parked himself into his desk chair. He opened his laptop, brought up the ticket bookings he had made for a Cheryl Cole concert to take the boy, and promptly requested a refund. Brendan hated pop music, he was more of a Johnny Cash man himself, so the deletion should have been a relief. Instead, he felt like he was cheating the kid of something, when in reality, it wasn't his responsibility to make Steven happy. But, dammit, did he want to.

Jacqui ended up being the one of the dynamic duo, who got him his drink. She passed him a glass of whiskey, but kept the bottle to her chest as she took a few steps back from Brendan's desk. She looked a little nervous, like she was just waiting for Brendan to bite her head off, but was determined to stand by her decision.

"What the fuck are you doing, Jacqui?" Brendan said in a deadpan voice, too tired to deal with his staffs' shit. "Put the damn bottle down and leave."

"You look really stressed, Brendan, so you can have that drink. But I'm not giving you the bottle." She said, tightening her hold on the item.

"You seem to think you have any choice in the matter. I'm only going to say it one more time. Put. The bottle. Down."

Jacqui swallowed and turned on her heels to leave with the alcohol firmly in her grip. She just about got her fingers on the door when Brendan shot up off of his chair, and banged the door shut again, making the barmaid jump back. There was fear in her eyes, but with all the things Jacqui McQueen was, she most definitely was not a coward.

"What are you going to do, Brendan? Hit me because I don't want you to drink yourself to death like you nearly did when your dad died?"

Brendan narrowed his eyes at her as he closed the gap further and further between them, like a predator preparing to rip the throat out of its prey. His face was mere millimetres from Jacqui's when he sneered, "I was glad when my father died. My only regret is that his heart failed on him before I could tear it from his chest. I hated the man."

"Yeah," Jacqui affirmed, "and you love Ste. There's a fine line between them. Sometimes we react in similar, destructive ways to the two emotions."

Brendan opened his mouth to lash out, to deny, but his tongue felt heavy when he tried to formulate words that would contradict her observations. He could've asked her how she knew Steven was the reason for his state, but honestly, he didn't care enough for it to be anyone else.

He grabbed the whiskey bottle from her hand and stepped aside, but before she went, he told her to get him a dustpan and another bottle. She looked ready to argue, but Brendan took a deep sigh and warned to not say a word, otherwise he'd give her job to one of the numerous unemployed students. When the door closed behind her, he threw the almost full bottle whiskey at the door, and finally felt the satisfaction of seeing something that wasn't him shatter.

Jacqui came back in, but almost immediately took a step out when she felt the crunch of broken glass beneath her shoes. Silently, she placed the new bottle of Jameson on his desk as he rounded the table and regained his seat on the chair. He told her to leave the mess, that he'd get it, but the barmaid seemed to develop selective hearing and scooped up all the shards with the dustpan, anyway. She left to throw the bits away, only to return with a mop to clean up the alcohol that was bound to make the floor sticky.

"Jacqui," Brendan called when she was ready to leave for the final time. He had his head lolled back onto the rear of the chair, and drank the glass she had poured for him earlier in one gulp before thumping it back down. "You and Rhys. You should stop fighting it. The aggro isn't worth it."

She gave him a small smile and leaned her weight onto one foot before replying. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brendan rolled his eyes and snorted as Jacqui left him to his one man party with liquid amber. He was already half way through the bottle when Rhys came in to tell him that he was the last one and was going home too. Brendan just looked at him as if to say, _do I actually look like I give a flying fuck? _The barman left with an exasperated expression, probably wondering why he put up with such an annoying boss. It was most likely because he got to work with Jacqui.

His vision was starting to get blurry when his phone rang. He let it go the first time, but it immediately started up again, so with a groan, he reached into his trouser pocket and retrieved the device. If he could actually see clearly he perhaps would have checked the ID before picking up, but with his alcohol to blood ratio all messed up, he answered the phone with a grunt. There was silence on the other end, so he tried a more clear, albeit slurred, greeting. Silence only responded. He was about to hang up when Steven's voice came through, rough from all his earlier shouting and crying.

"It weren't kids." Steven said, like that made all the sense in the world.

"What?" Brendan asked, trying and failing to sit up properly on his chair. He always seemed to slump back down.

"You said _'fucking kids' _when I told you how I lost my sight. It weren't kids."

Brendan pulled strength from somewhere and forced himself to straighten up in his seat. He blinked a few times in an attempt to sober himself up, but all it did was create black spots in his vision. He shook his head in another effort, but that only made him want to throw up. Steven called his name when his silence must've come across like he had disappeared.

"Who was it, then?" Brendan asked, not certain if he was actually ready to hear the answer. With his inhibitions so low, he wasn't sure how he would react.

"My mum met Terry when I was two. She changed both our names to Hay after they got married. He used to hit me for as long as I could form memories. My mum was a drunk and she neglected me, but she wasn't like him. She never raised her hand to me, but she was wilfully ignorant because she was so desperate to have to not be alone, especially after Danny. She believed Terry when he told her that I climbed and fell out of my cot when I broke my arm. Or I tripped and fell on a toy to explain my bruises. But then we moved to Chester, and Amy became my best friend, she didn't believe me when I repeated the lies Terry taught me. And then there was Tony, who saw Terry punch me across the face when I cried about being hungry."

Steven's voice broke off and he sniffed before asking Brendan if he was still there. And when Brendan confirmed that he still was, he realised that he had sobered up fast. He wanted to be drunk again, he didn't want to hear where this was going. Brendan's dad had hit him, had made him violently homophobic for years, forcing him to believe that he was sick and twisted from a young age. He knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a blow, but never in his life had he felt as helpless as he did now, knowing how this story probably ended.

"Tony confronted him, threatened to call the police, told him that they'd take me and give me to parents who actually cared. Terry seemed to lay off for a while, but he was just building up his anger, and one night he hit me in front of Mum. She couldn't deny it anymore and told him to leave. Except, he didn't like that, so he knocked her out and started to come after me, but I ran out of the house. I was ten, and so fucking scared. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I tried to go to Amy's because she told me to run away there once when she saw a nasty bruise."

"Steven," The name came out like a whimper from Brendan's mouth and he wished so badly that he hadn't walked out on the boy earlier. "I'm coming over."

"NO!" Steven shouted, his voice forceful. "I'll never tell you if you're here and I need to. I need to tell you this, because it's not fair on you."

"Steven you don't need to tell me anything. It's okay. I know it wasn't kids, anymore."

Steven started to repeat the word no like a mantra, and Brendan could just picture the boy shaking his head and freaking out all over again. So he apologised in what he hoped was a soothing voice and told him to carry on.

"He – he – he," Steven stuttered through his heaving sobs. He took a large breath and tried again. "He called three of his friends and told them to help find me. One of them did. He caught me and carried me off as he called the others to tell them that he had me. All of them were like him. They thought Terry was entitled to my mum, that I was just in the way and it was my fault that she kicked him out."

Steven's sniffs were becoming more frequent and his breaths were becoming shallower. Brendan wanted him to stop before he had a full blown panic attack, but the Steven stormed through.

"It was like a fucking sport for them. I could hear them spur each other on. See who could kick me the hardest, make me scream the loudest. I finally knocked out when a steel toed boot smashed into my skull. I don't know how long they carried on for, but apparently Tony found me in the alley the next morning, practically bathing in my blood and a halo of red around my head. I was in a coma for three weeks and the last thing I ever saw was Terry's foot coming at my face."

Brendan didn't even realise he was crying until he felt salty tears find their way into his mouth. Steven went on to tell him about Tony's proactivity to find Terry and his sickos. Amy's video statement for court, Tony paying out of his arse to help him in any way he could, whether it was medical bills or legal bills. Tony had admitted once that he felt he should've done more than just threaten Terry that one time, so now he was going to do everything he could to make sure Steven was properly taken care of. He wanted to take him from Pauline, but they ended up compromising, and Pauline got sober. Unfortunately, liver cancer took her anyway.

Brendan listened to every word the boy said, because this wasn't for Brendan's sake anymore. The kid had told him that he didn't know how to let in people who weren't there from the start, so he never had to actually tell someone everything. He never actually got to articulate the horrors to someone whose job it wasn't to listen, so he had to live with it held inside of him for years.

When Steven went silent, and the cries had dried out, they just stayed on the phone and listened to each other breathe. The comfort of one another's existence in their ear.

"Brady?" Steven eventually said.

"Yeah?"

"Tony found me the next morning."

"You already told me that." Brendan mumbled as he folded one of his arms on the desk in front of him and laid his head down.

"I mean the doctors got to me too late, and they couldn't relieve the pressure in my brain properly."

"Okay…" Brendan said, dread starting to fill up already.

"I have a type of post traumatic hydrocephalus. It's like having water in my brain, there's this fluid that slowly keeps accumulating there."

Brendan's grip on his phone got tighter and he barely recognised his own voice when he pleaded, "Steven, please no. Just shut up."

"It means my brain has been swelling up little by little, more and more as I got older, and now that I've reached full maturity, my skull no longer expands to accommodate it. I don't get seizures because I have medication for that, but I get really bad nose bleeds, and they've been getting more frequent."

"Jesus Christ, Steven," this time the sound came out like a whimper. "I'm begging you, stop."

"Brady, they can't do invasive surgery on me. Tony didn't find me on time."

The phone fell from Brendan's grip and he brought the heels of both hands to his eyes and pressed them hard into his sockets. It seemed like someone else when Brendan let out a strangled cry and rocked slightly where he was sitting. He got why Steven had been scratching at his skin earlier, he wanted nothing more than to tear away at his flesh, do something other than wait for the inevitable.

He heard his name being called at a distance and realised that Steven was still on the phone. He inhaled deeply to try to compose himself, but his eyes stung from the tears he was trying to hold back.

"Did they give you a time?" Brendan asked, because neither of them might've said it, but they both knew what the prognosis was.

"Maximum, a year probably," Steven whispered. "I'll just have a stroke one day or something."

Brendan closed his eyes and felt a stray tear creep its way down his face. He wanted to be with Steven right now so badly. If they had a year left, he did want to be drunk in his office. He wanted to do so many things. He wanted to tear Terry to shreds, him and all his lackies. He wanted to rip out their intestines out of their throats, and hang them with it until they choked on their own filth. More than that, he wanted to feel Steven against him. He didn't need to kiss him or anything, just feel the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin, the proof of his presence.

"You're not going to let me come to you, are you?"

"Not now. Maybe not tomorrow either. I need to be alone for a little while."

Brendan nodded, even though Steven wouldn't be able to tell. He didn't say anything in response to that because he was afraid that he'd breakdown and beg Steven to change his mind. To let Brendan see him, feel him. He couldn't do that though. Steven said it wasn't fair to keep Brendan in the dark, he didn't want to be selfish. So Brendan couldn't be selfish now either.

"Go to sleep," Steven said in a hushed voice as if Brendan was already drifting off. He wasn't going to sleep anytime in the near future.

"You didn't ask me," Brendan wanted to keep talking, listening to the boy's voice meant he was still there.

"Ask what?"

"You've always been worried that I'll leave you when the storm hit. You didn't ask me if I'll stay."

Steven was quiet, contemplating. And before Brendan heard the click of the phone to signal the end of the call, he heard Steven say in a voice so vulnerable Brendan could hardly bear it, "I trust you."

* * *

_The medical crap is about 85% correct. Someone with what Ste has would've died a lot sooner without surgery. Buuuut 15% artistic license, so all you science goons out there, leave me alone, okay! I'm already itching because i had to manipulate 15% for the plot's sake._


	8. Feels Like Forever

**Chapter 8 **

Ste didn't call him the next day, or the day after. Before he knew it, a week went past without a peek from the older man. It wasn't that Ste didn't want to see him, it was the mere fact that he was worried Brady was going to be another Tony or Amy. He was going to tip toe around him, be concerned about him with every little thing he did. Brady was going to see him as the dying boy he should never have grown attached to, the tragedy in his life. Ste didn't want that, he didn't want to hear the pity, the longing that there was some way to change things.

Doug came home from work the night of the epic meltdown from whatever club in town he was DJing for, and didn't say a word as he started to tidy the mess Ste had made. Ste apologised for making him do the clean up when he had just arrived from work, but the American just quietly asked him if he had a falling out with Brady. Ste wanted to deny it, but instead, he ended up bawling like a pathetic child while Doug neglected the cleaning and let him cry into his shoulder. He just told his flatmate that whatever it was that was between them was over now, and Doug just sighed. He had pulled back and told Ste it was time to tell the older man everything, to let him make his own decision on whether he wanted to stay or go.

It wasn't until he was spilling it all to Brady that he realised that the older man wasn't going to go anywhere, unless Ste wanted him to. He didn't need to ask the bar owner anything to believe that he'd stay. He just knew it. He heard it in Brady's pleas, his cries, and the strangled scream when he grasped what Ste was saying. It was then that Ste knew that he was going to leave more behind than a freaking tree, and that terrified him. Tony had his wife and his twins. Amy had her boyfriend, who she was probably going to marry and have kids with. But Brady, Brady was someone Ste could call his own, someone who wouldn't just move on.

It was too much. Telling Brady had made everything raw all over again, and Ste needed to find his own two feet again. He needed to be able to cope without the co-dependency that came with the older man.

Tony didn't mention Brady's absence, but Danielle was starting to miss her eye candy, and Casey was growing more and more troubled for Ste, because she worried he was silently going through a heartbreak. All three of his colleagues, and Doug too, knew about his circumstance, but they never spoke about it, not when Ste used to lash out every time they tried to appear sympathetic or understanding. It was bullshit. They couldn't really comprehend how it felt to have a ticking time bomb inside your head, the countdown so loud, you thought about ripping one of the connecting wires just to get it over and done with, just to have the silence it could bring.

He never actually tried to commit suicide, though, there were too many people trying to keep him alive. Like Tony, who Ste could now just feel looking at him as he peeled carrots for whatever the chef and his sidekick, Thayer, were cooking. It was too quiet in the kitchen for him not to be observing Ste intently.

"Tony, was there something else you wanted me to do for you?" Ste asked when he couldn't take it any longer.

"No, why do you ask?"

"Because after eleven years, you still seem to think I don't know when you have your beady little eyes on me."

Thayer snorted and then Ste heard the distinct sound of a palm whacking the back of a head. That and Thayer exclaimed in offence and told Tony that he was going to report him for assault. It was nothing to worry about, an everyday occurrence in all honesty. Tony probably just rolled his eyes as he told Thayer to go get a few of some fancy fish to prep for an order. Ste heard the sous chef scurry off as Tony came to stand by him.

"I haven't seen that fella of yours around for a while, everything okay?" Well, there went Tony not asking about Brady's absence.

"Yeah," Ste replied as he turned his back to his boss and dumped the carrot peelings into the bin. "I – I told him about, you know." He tried to be casual about it, but he most definitely failed in that attempt.

Tony clasped a hand on his shoulder and spun him around so they were facing one another, and he could hear Tony's angry breathing. "So what? He just decided he wanted out because you aren't worth the hassle anymore." Ste heard the soft sound of fabric falling onto the work counter as Tony dropped his dish cloth. "Tell Thayer I'll be back, I'm going to give that man a piece of my mind. Who the hell does he think he is? That obnoxious bastard."

It wasn't funny, but Ste couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips, a warm feeling encompassing his chest. He grabbed onto the chef's whites when the man turned to leave and pulled him into a hug. Tony stilled in shock for a second, but slowly lifted his arms up and hugged back, the confusion still present in the way he patted Ste's back.

"You're really great, Tony. A bit of a shithead, but really great." Ste squeezed a little tighter then let go.

"Err, thank you, but I still have a Godfather wannabe to castrate."

Ste shook his head, "he didn't walk away. I told him I needed space. I just, I can't be around him. Telling him made it all new, and I needed to be able to get my head round it again."

Thayer came back into the kitchen, then, but he didn't pay any attention to them as Tony pulled Ste in for another embrace. This time the man held onto him in a tight, comforting hold.

"How long ago was this?" Tony asked as he pulled away.

"About a week."

There was a shuffling sound from the chef as he shifted where he stood, but he didn't say anything to Ste. That probably meant he wanted to say something he wasn't sure Ste would completely be okay with, or would react angrily to.

"Just spit it out, Tony." Ste sighed when frustration took over.

"I just, I –" Tony breathed out loudly and started again. "I don't feel that keeping Brady away for so long is the right thing to do. Yes, you need to breathe a little, but you just told the man –" Tony stopped when they heard the door swing open and close. No one had entered, so that meant Thayer had left, predicting a fight in the horizon. "You just told the man that you might not have long left," Tony carried on. "You told him you have limited time, and then told him you want to spend a chunk of that limited time away from him. He's probably scared that you might not wake up tomorrow, and he can't be there with you because you don't want it."

Ste knew he was right. He should've at least texted the older man to let him know he was okay, but a text would lead to a call, and a call would lead to a craving to have him near. And to have him near would be to remind Ste that he couldn't have this, not in the long run.

"For someone who hates him, you stick up for him an awful lot." Ste muttered, not wanting to have a full blown argument.

"I don't hate him," Tony sighed. "Even if I did, it doesn't matter. We both care about the same person, so I know what he's feeling like right now. Powerless and longing for the reassurance that you're still here. Steven, what you're facing is terrifying, but it's going to be the rest of us that have to live with a lifetime of pain. Don't deprive him or yourself of the little bit of happiness."

Ste opened his mouth to say something, but when nothing could prove to be a justifiable argument, he closed it again. Steven should have stayed away from him from the start, he should've tried harder to push him away, and now it was too late. Now Brady had come in and made Ste want to live, made him want to cling on. What's worse was that he let the older man latch on to his heart, and he wasn't sure if Brady would be able to let go after it went still.

He turned around to continue peeling the carrots when the door flung open and Danielle came in, the heels of her shoes clip clopping across the tiled floor in hurried steps.

"Brady's here, Brady's here," came her breathless, excited voice.

Ste put down his peeler and wiped his hand down on his apron, before he followed out Danielle to the front, Tony at his heels. He walked behind the bar and could hear Thayer talking to the older man. The conversation seemed tedious and Ste realised that the sous chef was actually just trying to keep him talking whilst Danielle went to get Ste. When they noticed that he was there, both men became silent, and Ste used that time to breathe in the familiar scent of Brady. He might've been the one to ask the older man to stay away, but he did miss him so much.

"Hey," Ste greeted, when Brady still hadn't said anything.

"Hey," the bar owner sounded wary. He went silent again, and Ste just knew that they had an audience, that all his so workers were staring at them. After a few seconds, he spoke again, "err Tony said that you guys didn't get your wine order in today, so I was just dropping a few off. I'm just – I'll go."

Steven wished he could've said something to stop the man, but no words came to his mind other than_, please don't let me love you. Please don't let me love you, then have to leave you._ He wasn't going to say that, he was not going to sound so pathetic in front of his peers, and he was not going to let Brady know how much he meant to Ste. Not when it was going to hurt in the long run.

Danielle's footsteps rounded the bar as Brady walked away, she was perhaps walking him out or something. It wasn't behaviour that she ever did before, but Brady didn't sound like his usual self, so maybe she was just making sure he was okay. Tony mumbled something like how the older man could've just sent in one of his staff to drop the wine off, but Ste was glad that the older man had come. Ste had been right to trust him. He hadn't ran away.

Tony went off back to the kitchen, shouting at Thayer for slacking off as he did, when Danielle came back to the bar. She was squealing now, her voice so high it was almost too pitched for human understanding. Casey came running to Ste's side to see what the commotion was about whilst Tony shouted at Thayer for attempting to leave to do the same thing.

"Brady got us tickets. He got us tickets to see Cheryl in three weeks." Danielle said when she reduced her voice a few decibels in order to formulate words.

She handed over Ste five tickets and yelled for Thayer, who was still trapped in the kitchen from all the fuss. Ste couldn't tell if they were really tickets, but he didn't think Danielle would exactly lie about it. And it made sense as to why Brady came over instead of sending Rhys or someone to drop off the wine bottles. He wanted to give Ste the tickets, but gave them to Danielle instead to hand over, because he promised to give space.

"Why are there five?" Casey asked, taking the tickets from Ste's hands.

"He said it was for the four of us and Doug." Danielle answered gleefully, still jumping with happiness beside Ste.

"That's really nice of him, but why did he get them?" Casey's voice had a tinge of confusion to it.

"It was on the list," Ste said, taking two of the tickets from his colleague and stuffing them in his pocket.

"What list?" That was Thayer, who seemingly managed to escape Tony's kitchen imprisonment.

"I made a list of things I wanted to do. Going to a concert was one of them. I make him listen to Cheryl whenever we're in his car, so I guess he realised I was a fan."

There was an aww-ing sound from the girls, and Thayer just snorted, but he did feel the sous chef reach over him to whip his ticket out of Casey's hand, then he started to walk back to the kitchen.

"Why didn't he get one for himself?" Casey probed when she realised that the generous offer from the older man excluded the man himself.

"I asked him for some space."

Both girls went deadly quiet after that, and he could feel their judging eyes crawl all over him. Fuck them and their conclusions about how brilliant they thought Brady was. He was generous, he was funny in the dry sarcastic way. He was apparently really handsome and he cared about Ste like no one before. But all that was also fucking terrifying too, and he scared Ste, because Brady was not part of the to do list. Falling for someone was on his do not.

Ste sighed and walked back to the kitchen to carry on with his peeling. He was not in the mood to explain himself.

When he was at home and Doug had returned from work, he told his flatmate about the ticket the older man had gotten for them. The American laughed his head off before he sobered up and asked if Ste was really being serious. As a DJ, Doug said that it was sacrilegious to call Cheryl's auto tuned voice music. It was a debate they had often, and especially when they threw parties. Doug forbade her music being played out loud where he could hear, and once said his burps sounded more like a symphony than her voice ever could.

Yeah, they eventually agreed to disagree. Ste wasn't even sure why he told Doug about the tickets, he knew this would have been his reaction.

"Why isn't Brady going, he paid for the tickets. Although, I can't actually imagine him bobbing his head to that blasphemy." Doug commented as he made them both some tea.

"You know, you can dislike her music without being so offensive."

Doug just sniggered. Ste knew he just liked getting a rise out of him.

"We're on a break." Ste sighed, when Doug carried on waiting for an answer.

"You say that like you were together." The American brought the two mugs and set them on the table as he put on _The Dark Knight Rises_, passing Ste his headphones, so he could listen to the audio description.

"I dunno, I think we could've been until my freak out last week."

"Do you want to be with him?"

Ste considered that for a minute. Whether or not he thought it was a good idea, or whether or not he wanted to want the older man, the fact of the matter was he did want to be with Brady. So he whispered, half hoping Doug wouldn't hear, "yeah."

Doug put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed before letting go, "we know who that extra ticket is going to, then."

Ste tried to build up the courage to call Brady and tell him that he wanted to see him again, but every time he picked up his phone he got nervous and decided against it. It took another week before he found himself at the club. He smiled and waved in the direction he hoped Rhys and Jacqui were in when they said hello, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth to actually greet them. Rhys told him that Brady was in his office and he was free to go in, but Ste kind of just froze with his hand on the handle.

This was going to be the first time they were going to be in the same room properly since the whole revelation incident. He didn't know how long he stood there, but eventually Jacqui shoved him out of the way and swung open the door before flinging him inside. He couldn't say if Jacqui was a big girl or not, but she most certainly had a lot of arm strength.

"Jacqui, what the hell?" The Irish accent boomed, more prominent than ever when it was pissed off, but Jacqui was long gone with a slam of the door before he even finished his exclamation. "Sorry, Steven, she shouldn't have for –"

"She didn't force me. Well, she did, but only because I came to see you, but hovered outside your office door for like fifteen minutes."

Brady was quiet as Ste slowly walked to where the man was sitting, his hands out to make sure he didn't bump his groin into the corner of the table. It was something that had happened in the past, and not an experience he was willing to relive. Brady didn't move as Ste's finger's found his resting on the table. He gently slipped his hand around the older man's and pulled him till he was standing up and they were barely a hairbreadth apart.

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you the other week," Ste mumbled, their closeness making him want to speak quietly, like they were in a bubble that would explode if the vibration in the air caused by their voice came into contact with it.

"Steven, you don't ever have to apologise to me. Not ever."

"Even if I act like an entitled brat?" Steven asked, a small smile on his lips.

"Even if."

Ste stood up on his tiptoes and closed the gap between their lips, thriving on the sound Brady made at the back of his throat. Wide hands came to rest on his waist, as he wrapped his arms around the older man's neck, pulling him in down and closer. It was a chaste kiss, Brady not demanding more than Ste offered. When Ste pulled away slowly, the thin skin of their lips clung together, and Ste could feel the way Brady's mouth widened into a smile. He didn't unwrap his arms from the older man's neck, and the older man didn't drop his hands, opting to smile at each other like loons instead.

"Does this mean I can come back to you?" Brady tested in a hushed voiced.

"You never left, that was all me. Can I come back to you?"

The older man nuzzled his nose a little into Ste's hair and sighed contently into his ear. "Always."

Xxx

The concert was amazing. Cheryl was amazing. Brady was… there.

Danielle and Casey drunkenly sang Stupid Crazy Love in front of them on the way home, while Thayer probably walked a mile behind them all and pretended that he didn't know any of them. Ste had his arms around Brady's waist and Brady had his around Ste's shoulder, while they both laughed at the two girls' tone deaf voices. It felt comfortable, it felt right, and Ste could've kicked himself for leaving the inevitable so late.

They were only walking back from the cab to Tony's, so they were indoors soon enough. It was about two in the morning and the chef had told Brady to bring Ste back to the restaurant after. Ste knew it was because he wanted to give the older man his _if you hurt him, you die _talk, and the other three knew it too, so they tagged along, not wanting to pass up the chance for a threatening Tony.

The chef probably would have done it sooner, but in the two weeks since Ste went to see the older man and the concert, the two hadn't really seen each other. They texted and spoke on the phone till one of them dropped off asleep, Ste more often than not because they only ever spoke late at night due to the bar owner's work schedule. They were taking things a little leisurely. With the acknowledgement that they were never actually friends, they had to learn to approach their relationship in a new light.

Tony greeted them when they walked in, a little surprised to see the whole party. He chastised Danielle for pouring them all drinks, but there was no real heat in it. Instead, he called Dianne to come down and share a drink too if the twins were asleep. It wasn't long till the chef's wife was downing a shot. Being a mum was hard, was her excuse.

It turned out to be something of an after party, and when Tony thought everyone was distracted enough, he came and sat next to Ste. "I heard back from that doctor in Switzerland, he took a look at your scans."

Ste rolled his eyes and a flash of anger ran through him, but before he could tell Tony that he had expressed quite clearly that he did not want his boss contacting him again, Brady was there, his curiosity peeked.

"What doctor in Switzerland?"

Ste didn't answer, but Tony was more than eager to do it for him. "There's a neurosurgeon in Switzerland that took a look at Ste's scans. He says he can do surgery on him. He's a bit of an experimental surgeon, a little strange, but he says he can do it. He'd take away a bit of Ste's skull to relieve the initial pressure before he attempts to get rid of the excess fluid. If he's successful, he could even relieve enough pressure on the occipital lobe that Ste could actually get his sight back."

"What's his success rate?" Brady asked, not missing a beat and hope soaking each word.

"Ninety five percent."

"That's good, right? Steven that's good, ain't it?

Ste dragged his hands down his face and shook his head. The room was quiet now, everyone listening in to see what he would say. "The other five percent end up suffering from motor disability or dead. I know that's where I'm heading anyway, but I don't want to spend a fuck tonne of money only to die on a freaking operating table. It's risky, that's why he's the only doctor who'll do it."

"The five percent risk isn't what's making you stubborn, though." Thayer helpfully contributed and Ste sent a filthy look his way.

"What is it, then?" Brady's voice was so soft, so innocent, like he couldn't understand why Ste wouldn't want to try if there was a chance.

"He wants an extortionate amount of money for it. Like money I could never get a hold of. Tony -already re-mortgaged his house for all my initial treatment and I still never got better. He's in debt and all for nothing. For this doctor we'd have to sell our souls, and even then I can't guarantee it'd be enough, all for a treatment that could fail or make me worse."

Brady arm had crept around Ste's hips at some point, and now his nails were clawing into his side in a desperate attempt to hold on. "How much?"

None of them said the amount. It was taboo amongst them, made them feel helpless. However, there was a clattering sound, and then the scratching sound of pen against paper. Someone must've written it down and showed Brady the amount, because the older man gave a short gasp and his grip on Ste tightened. So yeah, that little bit of hope that Tony was so urgently clutching onto, wasn't really hope, but a tantalising, intangible concept that existed for the sole purpose of reminding him how life crapped on him time and time again.

The night went downhill from then. They didn't even have the entertainment of witnessing Tony try to make himself seem intimidating. The chef had retreated upstairs with his wife, no doubt upset about the circumstance. It wasn't anything Ste could change. They simply didn't have the finance to do it. They couldn't even get a loan out because they already owed money, and even if they could, they'd never be able to pay it back.

Thayer had locked up and went off to drop off the two girls, whilst Brady silently walked Ste home. They didn't say anything, and the hope that had risen quickly and had been crushed even quicker made Brady sullen. It took twenty minutes for them to walk back, and the only words that were exchanged between them were when the bar owner asked if Ste was cold and Ste said he was a little bit. Brady had draped his leather jacket over Ste's shoulders, then. Ste loved the jacket, it seemed to carry Brady's sent like none of his other clothes did, so he let himself be comforted by burying his nose into the fabric.

Brady walked Ste up the stairs and they both hesitated there. The bar owner leant in and kissed Ste on the forehead before he said a small goodbye and turned to leave, but with what seemed like its own accord, Ste's hand reached out and stopped the older man from leaving.

"Do you wanna come in?" Ste asked, not wanting him to leave. Not when he was clearly upset. Ste was used to the disappointment, he had long ago accepted his fate, but this was all new to Brady, he still had a fighter left inside of him.

"It's late, I'm kind of tired."

"Me too. I just wanna sleep." Ste didn't need to be overt about his invitation, the older man got it, they could just sleep together.

They walked into the flat and took off their shoes before walking past the living room where Doug was watching what was unmistakably Family Guy. He greeted them, but clearly caught up with the mood quickly. He didn't say much more as Ste led the older man to his room. He took off Brady's jacket and hung it behind his door, before he unzipped his hoodie and took it off with his his t-shirt too. It was only then did he realise he was topless in front of Brady. It wasn't exactly the first time, but it was in the context of not being the heat of the moment.

"Brady?" Ste called when he couldn't hear movement from the other man.

Just when Ste started to think that maybe Brady hadn't actually followed him in, he felt cold fingers on the skin of his waist, sliding across until a large palm lay flat on the small of his back. Ste could pinpoint the moment goose pimples raised up on his skin, it was around the time his breath caught in his throat. The older man's other hand came up to slowly cup Ste's face as they stood now chest to chest, Brady's clothed by the soft fabric of his top.

Ste felt the tingles of stubble and Brady's moustache against his neck as the other man glided his lips across the span of his skin without really kissing. When his lips travelled to where Ste's Adam's apple was, he tilted the younger man's head back and licked a path all the way back up to Ste's ear, before he gently slipped a lobe in between his teeth and tugged, igniting an unintentional groan from Ste.

"If I can get the money, will you consider the surgery?" Brady whispered, his mouth still by Ste's ear.

"Can we not?" He breathed, as he turned his head so that his lips were resting against the older man's. "We could have an amazing year together if you want it, please don't spend it worrying about money we can't get a hold of."

"Will you consider it?" Brady repeated, this time more insistent. "Please."

Ste found himself gulping and nodding his head in agreement. That's all it took for Brady to close his mouth over Ste's and lift him up until the smaller man could wrap his leg around Brady's waist. He carried Ste to bed, never once parting their lips. Ste felt a blanket of cold over him when Brady did back away, but when he leant over again, it was skin on skin. Ste scratched his nails down the man's torso, revelling in the way the larger body quivered beneath his fingertips.

He would've let Brady do whatever he wanted, then, but the older man regretfully pulled away, moaning slightly as the lips ceased contact. He fell onto the bed beside the younger man, making Ste bounce a little when he fell. He could hear Brady taking off his trousers and dropping them to the floor as he got ready to sleep. Ste whined a little and turned to his side, so that he was facing the arsehole.

"That was unfair and cruel," Ste huffed as he took off his own pants and they both lay there in nothing but their underwear.

Brady just chuckled and pulled the duvet from under them before draping it on top. He pulled Ste in until his head was tucked beneath the older man's chin, and Ste could feel the rise and fall of his chest. It wasn't the most conventional lullaby, but Ste fell asleep to the sound of a steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

The next morning he felt the warmth of the sun streaming through his window, but the side of the bed where Brady was supposed to be was cold. He didn't have time to get disappointed though, not when the soft murmur of an Irish drawl journeyed out of his bathroom. Brady must've been on the phone, and didn't want to wake Ste up. The younger man turned his face down to the pillow and buried himself further into his bed, that was now starting to smell like Brady.

His ears picked up bits of the conversation, not really meaning to eavesdrop.

"Fucking hell, Kyle, I said I'll be there." Brady said through what was definitely gritted teeth. He went quiet for a while, waiting for someone called Kyle to finish saying their piece before he carried on. "Not a change of heart. I still think you're a waste of space, but I know an opportunity when I see one." Silence. "Yeah, don't go getting any idea, this is a one off."

That must've been the end of the call because Brady came back into the room and crawled back onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Ste's waist and buried his nose in the crook of the younger man's neck. Ste was too awake to cuddle now, though.

"Whosmmppffmm?"

Brady pulled his face away and asked incredulously, "what?"

Ste sighed and turned his head, so he was no longer speaking into his pillow and repeated, "Who's Kyle? Not the douchenozzle from that day I met you?"

Brady breathed out an exasperated breath as if just thinking about the idiot exhausted him out, "unfortunately."

"What were you guys talking about?"

He felt Brady sit up with his back to the headboard before he answered. "I'm gonna get you the money."

Ste was pretty sure he looked like something out of a horror movie with his bed hair and a deep frown on his forehead. He got up until he could sit with his legs crossed and facing Brady. "Don't tell me you're going to do something stupid with that man to get the money. I will fucking kill you."

"Steven," Brady sighed, his tone telling in how he obviously anticipated the argument. "Whether it's stupid or not, I don't know. But what I am doing is everything I can to make sure I don't lose you."

"Fuck you, Brady." Ste climbed out of the bed, so he could loom over the older man. "You don't get to do something that might get you in prison to help me."

"Steven, you said if I get the money, you'll consider it." There was sound of fabric being moved as the older man climbed out of bed too and rounded it to Ste's side, so they were facing one another.

"NOT BY ILLEGAL MEANS!"

"I don't fucking care how I do it, Steven. I want a life with you. One day, I want to marry your stubborn arse. Adopt a couple of brats while we're at it, mess them up like we know what we're doing. I want to move to an isolated area and build a house with my bare hands while you drink lemonade and whinge about how I'm doing it wrong. I want to fucking grow old with you, die side by side with you like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel. I don't want one fucking amazing year, Steven. I want forever and then some."

Ste didn't know when he started crying with his lips pressed against one another, but there were silent tears on his face. He dropped his head down till his chin rested against his chest, and he heaved in a breath in an attempt to control himself. He must've mumbled something that sounded like, _me too_, because there was a sigh of relief from the older man. Hands cupped his face and lifted his head up, then lips were placed on the corner of his mouth where a tear was making its way into.

Brady kept his lips there as he whispered, "I want to make you see the sun rise."


	9. Hooked On A Feeling

_Warning: NSFW_

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"So what kind of boss is he?" Ste asked as he took a sip of his third cocktail of the night. The drinks were getting to his head a little, but he had nothing better to do while Brady was in his office on the phone with Kyle.

"He… erm," Rhys hesitated, not sure if he was allowed to trash talk his boss to his boss's boyfriend. Not that they were boyfriends… well, they sort of were, but hey hadn't actually put a label to it, they just sort of went with it a day at a time. "He used to be scary, but he's a lot more chilled out now."

Jacqui started laughing as she approached where Rhys and Ste were talking. "What he means is that the boss-man is completely whipped by you, he has no time to snarl at us for breathing anymore."

Ste removed the cherry from the little umbrella in his drink and threw it at the two, it probably didn't hit either. They simply laughed while Jacqui ruffled his hair before she turned her attention to another customer, Rhys doing the same. It had been like this for the past hour now, Ste sitting at the bar, Rhys and Jacqui entertaining him whenever they had a spare minute. Ste wondered a little if they only spoke to him because of his affiliation with their employer, but they didn't seem to act like they'd rather be elsewhere.

Just when Rhys popped another cocktail in front of Ste, a hand took his own off the glass and removed the drink from within his reach. He was about to protest, his mouth open and the words at the tip of his tongue, but when the first sound came out of his mouth, the rest was lost when lips were placed against his own.

Ste heard Brady telling Rhys to stop serving Ste alcohol because he wasn't going to carry him home if he passed out. The fondness in his voice was a tell-tale signal that he wouldn't actually mind if that happened. Rhys mumbled an apology, but it was to Ste rather than his boss for letting him get drunk.

The stool beside Ste scraped against the floor as Brady pulled it put and sat next to him, then dragged Ste's stool closer to him. "Sorry for taking so long, Kyle doesn't exactly trust why I'm willing to tolerate him now as opposed to all the verbal violence I have subjected him to in the past."

"Verbal? Are you sure that's how far you only went?" Ste asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I resent that." In reality Brady sounded amused. "I only punched him once when he tried to hit on Chez, and that was called for because he's fucking creepy."

"Because you're so subtle when it comes to showing your own interest in people."

Brady chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made Ste want to pull him in and swallow it till the sound was no longer laughter, but a guttural groan, instead. "It worked, didn't it? Seven months later, and I can safely say I know what it sounds like to have you kiss so deeply, I don't know where you end and I begin."

Ste could feel his cheeks heating up with all the blood rushing there. It wasn't that he was embarrassed, it was the fact that Brady spoke like this and they still hadn't had sex, so sexual frustration was a very real thing in Ste's life at the moment. It wasn't from a lack of trying on Ste's behalf either, and for someone who wanted him so badly, the older man was a fucking prude when it came to the deed.

"You're definitely going through with it tomorrow?" Ste changed the subject in an attempt to shake away his debauched thoughts.

"Yes, Steven, we've discussed this." Brady sighed and Ste could just imagine him running a hand down his face.

"I just –" Ste didn't think it was his place to ask, but screw it, if there were other options Brady could take, Ste would bring it up. "Your sister, you mentioned that she married some really rich guy, maybe she can lend the money."

Brady was quiet next to him and the younger man started to worry that he had stepped over the line. This money was for Ste, of course Cheryl had no obligation to give it to her brother's whatever. Or maybe Brady just didn't want to tell his sister why he would need such a large sum of money, he didn't want to tell his only family about a guy who might not make it to next Christmas.

"I did," Brady's voice was strained. "Nate and Cheryl have a new baby, a new life, but I asked her, anyway. Nate comes from a wealthy family, but he himself isn't as wealthy. What he does have isn't in the form of liquid assets."

"What does that mean?"

Brady sighed loudly and Ste heard the stool back scrape violently as he stood up, "it means people don't have that kind of cash just lying around, Steven."

The older stormed off and Ste jumped a little where he was sitting when he heard the office door slam shut, the sound loud, even over the music of the club. He knew he shouldn't have brought it up. Ste slowing stood up and made his way to the office, bumping into patrons and people already drunk as he did. This was why he preferred Brady coming to the restaurant than him visiting the club, the place was way too crowded. Except, when they started whatever it was that they were now, Ste told himself he would try just as hard as Brady when it came to making this thing work between them.

Once in the office, Ste touched his way to the sofa and took a seat next to the older man, gently taking a calloused hand into his own. "I'm sorry, I just, I wish there was another way than getting involved with Kyle. I shouldn't have brought up your sister."

"Steven, this isn't about Cheryl, she gave me however much she could spare. She wants to help you, _us._" Brady sounded almost defeated, as if he was tired of feeling the way he did. "This is about the fact that you seem to think I _want_ to get messed up with Kyle. I asked my sister before I asked him, while you were asleep, then I calculated how much I could give on top of that. The rest I have to make up, somehow. Steven, what I'm doing with Kyle is a necessity –"

"It's not –"

"Don't." Brady said through gritted teeth and supressed anger. He paused in an effort to calm down before he spoke again, this time wrapping his arm around Ste's waist to pull him in closer. "One time thing. Tomorrow will be over before you know it and then we'll be in Switzerland for your surgery in a week's time."

Ste wasn't so sure it was going to be as easy as that. He never allowed himself to hope, and all of this seemed too good to be true. He just felt it that something was going to go wrong tomorrow. Brady was going to get caught doing whatever it was that they had planned, or Kyle was going to double cross him or _something._ Ste didn't exactly know what the big plan was, all that he was aware of was the feeling of dread that was building up inside of him.

Brady leant in and kissed his temple before he pulled him up and kissed him on the mouth properly, mumbling, "let's go home."

Xxx

Ste woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't unusual, but considering that Brady was going to be with Kyle that day, Ste had hoped he would wake him up to say goodbye, just in case something went wrong and it was goodbye forever. The space was cold, so the older man must have been gone for a while, and when Ste checked his phone, there were no messages on it either.

He begrudgingly got out of bed and dressed like his limbs were being uncooperative, before making it to work with a scowl on his face and an air of _don't fuck with me today._ Tony kept him in the kitchen all day, away from customers just in case he threw a tantrum at them. None of his co-workers knew what Brady was up to, but they must've have gathered that the problem somehow stemmed from the older man, because no one asked about him. Even Thayer, who lived to aggravate anyone within a hundred mile radius, only spoke to him when he needed to.

By the time work was over and Ste made it home, Doug was out and he was ready to crawl into bed until he heard news from the older man. It had been nearly twelve hours and there still wasn't a peek, so Ste burritoed himself in his blanket and put on the _One for Sorrow_ audiobook on. It was a present from Casey because she had fallen in love with the story and wanted someone else to fangirl with her. Ste just wanted to get lost in problems that weren't his, and a fifteen year old that saw the ghost of a nobody seemed like a good place to start.

He wasn't really sure what was going on in the novel when he heard the intercom go off, causing him to fall face first when he tried to escape his cocoon of blankets when he tried to answer it. He managed to get to it before it rang out, his hello a collection of ragged breaths, then a sigh of relief when he heard Brady's voice on the other end, asking to be let in.

Ste stood by the door as Brady made his way up, and when he got to the house, Ste flung himself at the older man. There was a loud thump as Brady dropped something on the floor to wrap his arms around Ste as well. He buried his cold nose into the crook of Ste's neck and inhaled deeply, holding the younger man so tight that he had to stand on his toes.

"You're okay," Ste said, his fingers digging into the older man to make sure he was really there and not going anywhere.

"I'm fine," Brady gently pulled away and combed his hand through Ste's hair, which was probably standing in all directions after Ste had been stress pulling at it. "You look like shit, Steven."

"Yeah, thanks to you. You could've called to let me know you weren't in police custody or something." He pushed Brady's shoulder, hard enough to elicit miniscule movement, but not so hard that they'd both end up on the floor, seeing as Brady's hold on Ste meant if one went down, they both did.

Brady backed away until they could stand properly and took Ste's hand in his. He led him them into Ste's room, mumbling apologies and excuses about how he couldn't call because they weren't exactly in a situation where he could just bring his phone out for a casual _hey, how you doing?_ Apparently he did stop at Ste's first thing, and for that Ste found some of his frustration edging away.

There was the sound of something heavy falling on the bed, and it wasn't either of them, because Ste was still standing and Brady was right there beside him. He was ready to ask what it was, when he heard Brady let go of his hand to unzip what was now obviously a bag. He stood there in silence after the older man had revealed whatever it was that was inside. However, it seemed like Brady had forgotten he was blind because he stood quiet too, not enlightening Ste on what exactly the bag had carried.

Brady sighed next to him and made his way to stand behind Ste before he brought both his hands over Ste's pair and guided them to where the bag sat. He could feel the heat of the older man's breath against his cheeks as his fingertips touched against paper. Paper in piles until they formed little blocks. A lot of little blocks. Brady's hands were still against his when he took a hold of one and fanned through it.

Shit.

Ste turned around in the circle of Brady's arms, his mouth agape in terror. "Brady, what did you do?"

"I promised to get you the money, here it is."

Their mouths were so close together and Ste wanted to kiss him brutally, caress him and hurt him at the same time. With the money now tangible, Ste was faced with the reality of the fact that Brady had to have done something royally stupid to get a hold of it.

"It's a lot of money, what did you do for it?" Ste asked again, because if the older man was going to risk his future for Ste's, Ste damn well wanted to know the details.

Instead of answering, or maybe as a way of answering, Brady closed his lips over his and barely hesitated before he plunged his tongue into the younger man's waiting mouth. Their tongues glided against one another, fighting for dominance, control, fighting to hold onto the taste of the other. The kiss wasn't gentle, Brady's hands against his face weren't strategically placed with fingertips barely touching his face like he was made of delicate glass. Brady's fingers thread through Ste's hair, it tugged at his hair, and nails scratched against his scalp, provoking a gasp that the older man only just let him breathe before consuming him in another frenzied kiss.

Ste let his own hands travel up the older man's arm, over his shoulder, then around his neck. He pulled Brady in closer – couldn't get close enough – and arched his back in to eliminate any gap between them. Ste contritely pulled away, and he didn't need to feel his lips to know that they were probably swollen. They hurt a little, but it was the best type of ache, the type he wanted more of.

"You can't kiss me into forgetting that there is a tonne of money on my bed which you got through questionable means." Ste breathed, his chest rising and falling heavily and in sync with Brady's.

"Steven, I'm hopped up on adrenaline that is going to waste here." Brady's sounded like his tongue was overworked from activities that didn't include speaking.

"I wanna… I want this to work too, and I'm scared that won't happen if you end up behind bars."

"Steven," Brady said with firmness. He leaned over Ste and picked up the bag before dropping it to the ground. "I swear on my life, this won't end up with me in a prison cell."

With that, he pushed Ste until he fell back onto the bed, his lungs violently hitting against his ribcage. It probably hurt, but Ste was only aware of the feeling of Brady crouching over him, his body a comforting weight that made Ste want to feel the full extent of on top of him, as well as have under him to do with as he pleased. Brady didn't kiss him again, instead, he positioned his mouth close to Ste's ear and told him to climb up higher on the bed.

His head was against his pillow and Brady's large thighs were on either side of his, but they weren't really touching. When the older man leant back down, he was no longer wearing his jacket and top, and the heat of his body had Ste tearing his nails down the expanse of skin presented before him. It was something of a kink he had when it came to the older man, to rip his nails down soft flesh. It always had the man reacting as if he had been electrocuted just enough for all the hair smattered across his body to stand.

Ste had changed into a soft t-shirt and pyjama pants when he got home, and the thin material did nothing to prevent the friction of a jeans clad groin against his own. His hand made its way to the small of Brady's back, where it was arched, and with the older man's belt still clasped, he had to claw his way down Brady's jeans until his hands managed to grab onto plump flesh to draw the man in further.

Brady removed Ste's hands and placed them on both side of Ste's head, ordering him to keep it there or hold on to the headboard if necessary. With his own, he slid them up Ste's stomach, his thumbs brushing against the younger man's navel, pushing in enough to make Ste squirm with arousal. The older continued his tour, rough fingers against silky skin, and as he went, he pushed Ste's t-shirt up too until it gathered under his armpits. Ste was about to reach down and pull it up over his head, but Brady's hand caught him around the wrist, then grabbed the other too, in one grip, holding them above Ste's head.

When the older man bent down and placed an open mouthed kiss at the centre of his chest, Ste could do nothing, other than curl his spine back in a strive for more contact, and curl his toes into his mattress. He was panting, his skin buzzing with sensory overload, and just when he thought he would combust, Brady's tongue slid across his chest and took a nipple into his mouth. He jerked a sudden movement, which proved to be a mistake because it just made the older man scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin and tug. Ste to cursed and dug his nails into the flesh of his palm for some sort of release, even through pain. After what seemed like a torturously long time, Brady relented and blew a soothing breath over the assaulted skin.

"You're really responsive," Brady whispered with his mouth hovering over the other nipple. Ste would have made a retort about how blind people were typically more sensitive to the touch, but his breath caught in his throat when Brady replicated his former actions on the other nipple.

Eventually, the older man let go of Ste's wrists and pushed the t-shirt up and over his head, then moved his hand down to the waistband of his pants. Ste wasn't wearing any briefs under his pyjamas and when Brady discovered this, there was a harsh intake of breath. For long while there was no touching, just Brady's almost tangible gaze sweeping all over him.

"You're so beautiful," Brady finally broke the silence, his tone like he really meant it, like he hadn't seen anything like Ste before in his life.

Ste didn't respond, instead, his shaking fingers found the buckle of Brady's belt to try to open it. His fingers weren't cooperating though, and soon Brady had to intervene and take the belt off for him. Coldness overtook Ste as the older man got up to take the jeans off all the way down his legs. However, when he came back, he crawled between Ste's leg's this time, as opposed to straddling him, and pulled Ste up until he could sit on the older man's lap.

Brady didn't demand anything off of him, but as soon as he felt the length of the older man slide against his, he wrapped a quivering hand around the other man's hardness, relishing in the way the velvet skin felt in his hand. Brady made a sound that wasn't quite a groan, but more like he wanted to die, right here, right now, like this. Ste leaned forward to kiss the man's mouth, but when he got close enough, he realised that Brady had tilted his head back to expose his throat in all its gracefulness.

Ste swiped his tongue against the salty skin just as he glided his finger up the length in his hand, and this time when the man made a guttural sound, Ste's felt it in his mouth before he heard it. He slid his tongue up higher, tasted the man's pulse, felt his life and let it travel down his spine as he carried on his journey to Brady's jaw, nipping slightly as he went.

With his other hand, Ste fisted a handful of the older man's hair to keep his head in place, before he picked up the place of his hand on Brady's dick. Ste swept a thumb over the head, pre-come thick and coating, and Brady shivered in Ste's hold, the hair in Ste's hand resisting as Brady tried to loll his head forward. Ste didn't let go, he tightened his grip, and when the older man opened his mouth to gasp a moan, Ste slipped his tongue into his mouth. With the angle they were in, Ste slightly higher than Brady and Brady's head back, Ste kissed him deeply and thoroughly, swiping his tongue over teeth and biting inflamed lips.

It must've gotten too much for the older man, he clutched onto Ste's waist and tossed him down onto his back, so that he could hover closely on top. Ste had lost his hold on Brady's dick in the movement, so he slithered his hand down the man's torso in search of it again. Except, when his nails scratched against the coarse hair of the older man's treasure trail, Brady whipped Ste's hand away and took both his wrists again, this time one in each of the older man's hands.

Brady gyrated his hips against Ste's, causing both of their lengths to swipe against one another, their pre-come lubricating enough that they slid against one another with masochistic ease. Ste tilted his hip up for more contact and hooked a leg of Brady's hip to create a more effective angle. The older man climbed a bit higher, until his balls rested at the top underside of Ste's dick, then he drew them down the entire length.

"Fuckfuckfuck," Ste whined, almost on the verge of tears from stimulation. "You have to do something, I need to come."

Brady disappeared for all of three seconds to get a condom and lube from Ste's bedside table. He hadn't told Brady where the items would be, but the man did spend a lot of nights in Ste's bed, albeit innocent nights, so he had probably discovered them at some point. However, with Brady's return, Ste didn't hear the tear of foil wrapping to signify that the older man was putting a condom on, all he heard was the snap of the lube bottle cap opening.

Before Ste was prepared he felt Brady's hot length against crevice of his backside. Ste was on the verge of panicking, he hadn't had sex in a while and even if he did, he always needed to prep before any actual penetration. Before he could get too alarmed, Brady told him to relax, that he wouldn't hurt him, he promised, and just like that, the panic subsided and anticipation replaced it.

Brady wrapped both Ste's legs around his waist while Ste held onto the older man's shoulder, ready to let him do whatever he wanted. If Brady said he wasn't going to hurt him, Ste trusted him enough to not ask what exactly it was that the older man _was_ doing. He let Brady push down, but not into him, rather he slid down between Ste's cheeks, the lube creating a tantalising friction. Brady pulled up and then slowly slipped down again, his hot head rubbing against Ste's hole, but never entering as it passed and he felt the rest of Brady's erection slither against him.

Ste was losing control of himself, and he clenched his backside to last longer, but that only tensed his cheeks against Brady's dick and enhanced the stimulation, causing the older man to speed up. He rasped out that he was close, so Ste, using all the strength he could muster, flipped them until he was on top. This time he took the older man's wrists into his own hands and held them in place while he continued the movement Brady had been doing, but now at his control and leisurely pace.

With him on top, and Brady's dick resting against his stomach, Ste could press down as hard as he wanted as he glided the cleft of his arse up and down. He didn't let the older man reach for his own cock, no matter how much Brady begged or how much Ste wanted it himself. He preferred to see Brady melt into a boneless pool of arousal.

The head of Brady's cock was against his hole when Ste felt the man beneath him tense and then he shot the first ribbon of hot come against Ste. Ste breathed in a ragged breath at the sensation, then gathered himself enough to use the thick liquid to generate a more luxurious slip and slide of skin. Brady managed to release his hands from Ste's vice like hold to hold onto him as he tipped his hips up in correlation with Ste's movement.

After Brady's dick was fully exerted and he let out the last thread of come, Ste fell on top of the man, painfully aware of his still hard dick between them. His arse was covered in thick spunk and his cock was twitching with want, but a part of him just wanted to lay there, forget needing his own release or to clean up. He just wanted to lay on the warmth of the older man's chest.

He lazily slipped his hand between them, to get it over and done with, but the older man stopped him when he was just within reach of his length. Larger hands wrapped around his dick and Ste couldn't help the moan that escaped his mouth, right against the hammering heartbeat beneath his lips. Brady slipped the hand to Ste's behind and swept away some of his come that was there. He then slid the hand over Ste's balls, lathering it with his juice before he moved on and snaked his fingers around Ste's cock again and began to pump.

Ste's breath was coming out fast and hot, and in an endeavour to do something, he leaned up and took Brady's bottom lip into his mouth and sucked hard. Their kiss was too much tongue, too much hot breath, but neither of them cared, they just wanted to take. When Ste felt every cell in his body scream, he knew he was about to come, so he pressed his mouth harder against the older man's, allowing him to swallow the moans he made when he finally came.

He slipped off of Brady when it was over, his dick sensitive and his insides mush. He felt so exhausted, ready to sleep so his bones could regrow enough that he could stand again without his knees giving in. They probably should have showered, Ste's was more or less covered in both his and the older man's spunk. It would be gross in the morning, all dry and crusty, but Ste didn't think he had it in him to get up.

It seemed like Brady didn't either. There was a groaning sound as he stretched over Ste to retrieve one of their t-shirts, and he used the item of clothing to presumably wipe himself of come, before he did the same for Ste. When he was done, he threw the t-shirt across the room and Ste allowed the strenuous activity of smiling as the older man moulded himself around his back and pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up to cover them. He placed a soft kiss behind Ste's ear before they fell asleep.

This time, when Ste woke up, Brady was still beside him, and apparently still naked too. Except he wasn't asleep anymore, he was tapping away at what sounded like a laptop. Doug and he had a communal one that he rarely used because, though it had braille letterings on the keys, he still got aggressively frustrated with the piece of technology when he couldn't use it properly. That meant that the laptop was mainly in Doug's possession, which by extension meant that Brady had to ask him for it. Naked. Ste hoped he at least puts some pants on, then took them off before he climbed back into bed.

Ste's bones ached when he moved up to a sitting position and rested his head against Brady's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm? We booked your surgery for next week, remember?" Brady answered before placing a soft kiss to Ste's mouth. "We didn't book tickets for flights out, though."

The joys of private medical treatment meant that Ste could book his surgery sooner than he probably would have received it if he were relying on the NHS. Unfortunately, as much as Ste wanted it over and done with, he wasn't sure he was quite mentally prepared to undergo fucking brain surgery. He was actually going to let someone crack open his skull and have it with a knife.

Ste just hummed, hoping that if he seemed nonchalant, he might start to believe that it wasn't such a big deal.

"Amy called, by the way." Brady said, his tone distracted as he carried on tapping away at the laptop. "I picked up because I didn't want to wake you. She's catching a flight too, same day as us. I don't think she likes me still."

Ste ignored the last sentence. He knew Amy didn't like Brady. When he had told her that they were going to give whatever it was between them a shot, she remained sceptical of Brady's intentions. "Why is she getting a flight to Switzerland?"

Brady didn't answer the question, rather he asked one of his own, something about whether Tony was going to fly out with them, or catch a different plane, perhaps on a different day. He didn't even wait for Ste's answer, opting to carry on talking about how much they should pack, what they should pack. Whether or not Ste wanted to stay in Switzerland for a while after he healed to tour or whatever.

"Brady!" Ste shouted to be heard over the man's babbling. "Why are Tony and Amy flying out too?"

Brady didn't answer. He didn't need to, to be honest. Ste was right to be anxious about the surgery. Tony and Amy were flying out because, as much as Ste could end up with his life extended and his sight back, he could end up dead too.


	10. Tastes Like Iron-y

Some of you know that this story was only supposed to have three parts, this chapter is basically where part 1 would have ended.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_if you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part_

"You okay?" Brendan asked Steven, who was packing his bag in something of a daze.

The boy had left everything to the last minute, and Brendan wasn't stupid, he knew the kid was procrastinating because he was nervous, didn't want to face the fact that he was about to have major surgery. Steven had barely left the bed since the confirmed the flight, and only ventured out when Brendan started packing for him, incorrectly. Brendan thought he'd keep it to himself that he only started throwing everything in the bag like he was throwing out trash because he knew it'd annoy the younger man enough to have him do it himself.

"Yeah," Steven sighed and dropped his bag to the floor to sit on the bed where his luggage had been placed. "Danny called to confirm dinner plans. You gonna come?"

Brendan took a seat next to Steven just as his phone went off again. The boy frowned at the sound, curious as to who Brendan was ignoring. It was probably the fifteenth call that Brendan had let ring out. He had stopped checking the caller ID after the third time it rang. Brendan had to hand it to Kyle for persistency, he was not giving up on trying to get through.

He waited until the call rang out before he answered Steven. "I dunno. Your dad wants to spend time with you, introduce you to the family. I'll be in the way."

"But what if it gets awkward? You have to be there to diffuse the tension."

Brendan chuckled as he shook his head and stood up, making his way to his phone to delete the missed call. "You're meeting your sisters and Danny's wife for the first time, it's bound to be awkward. Anyway, didn't you say that your stepmother is a cop? I think I'd only increase the tension. I don't exactly expel an aura of angelic innocence."

Steven laughed a little at that and fell back on his bed. Nope, this was no time for the boy to crawl back into the duvet. Brendan walked up to him and pulled him up by the wrists, the lad's head fell back and his neck arched, letting himself go loose. Brendan rolled his eyes and let him drop again, but instead of leaving him to mope, he crouched over and kissed the lad softly on the lips. He backed away slowly, and this time Steven got up himself to chase after Brendan's lips.

Rather than kissing him again, Brendan smirked, "that got you up."

"You're an arsehole," Steven mumbled, but didn't fall back.

"Look, I'll go to dinner with your dad and his motley crew if you really want me to."

Ste sighed and nodded slowly, his mannerisms lethargic yet stiff at the same time. Danny had wanted Steven to meet everyone before the surgery, for one reason, and that was due to the risk of Steven not waking up at all. The boy put it off until Danny had put his foot down, and now he was to meet everyone the night before their flight to Switzerland.

It wasn't so much that Steven didn't want to meet his sisters, he did. One night he had told Brendan all about how he would've loved to have siblings while growing up. He knew that Perrie, Danny's youngest, was still in her early teens, so Steven wanted to play scary big brother to boys who would inevitably crush on her. He wanted to have that whole family dynamic. The only reason he delayed it was because he didn't want to admit that Danny was pushing the meeting for morbid reasons.

Danny himself wanted to fly out, but Steven put his foot down at that, and when his father tried to argue, Brendan had taken the man to a side to make him understand that if they were all around him, he'd just get more nervous about the surgery. He'd know that everyone was scared for him, and he'd panic. Steven's father wasn't happy, but it was obvious that he loved his son enough to put away his own personal feelings on the matter and oblige to Steven's wishes.

By the time packing was done and it was time for the dinner, Steven was wearing a button up and the pants to a suit that apparently he had bought for Tony's wedding, then wore again at his mother's funeral. He looked incredible, despite the boy moaning about how it was too small for him now. Brendan wished he could see himself, know that even if he was wearing a sack, he'd look like he stepped out of a GQ magazine spread.

Most of his clothes were bought with the assistance of Amy when she was around and the more recent ones were bought with Danielle and Casey, so his clothes were definitely within the trend. However, the kid mainly wore tracksuits and t-shirts, said everything else made him feel like he was suffocating. Brendan had to admit that his jeans were on the tight side, but he also had to admit that he liked looking at Steven in said jeans.

Steven's hair was another thing Brendan had wondered about in the past, how he managed to stylise it when he couldn't look at his reflection. Steven had told him that the barber knew who he was at the salon he went to, and knew what haircut to give him every time. He went once every four months. As for styling it, that was thanks to tutorials from Doug, who had spent months teaching him to perfect it without needing to actually see the end product, but comfortable enough with the end result.

Brendan mentally wrote a note to remind himself to bring back Swiss chocolate for all Ste's friends. Their efforts with Steven, didn't just make him look good on a day to day basis, but with a helping hand, they offered him the opportunity to live independently in the long run. They gave him enough confidence to allow him to do things himself, without fearing that his blindness proved to be a barrier when it came to fitting in.

"It's not tight, Steven," Brendan said as he wiped away imaginary lint from the boy's shoulder.

"The shirts alright because it's new, but I swear, the pants are gonna split when I sit."

Brendan laughed deep in his chest, then let his hands drift down Steven's arms, around his waist, and clutched onto his arse. Brendan placed a kiss on the boy's mouth and pulled him in closer. "It's called snug, it's not gonna split and I think it looks extremely hot."

Steven smiled into the kisses as Brendan peppered several more, "It turns you on?"

"Mm-hmm," Brendan hummed then slipped his tongue into the lad's mouth, gripping at his backside tighter as he did.

Steven broke the kiss, but he stayed close enough that when he spoke, his wet lips skated against Brendan's. "The difference is," Steven started. "I'm not trying to turn on my dad, his wife and my sisters."

"Don't ruin it, Steven."

Brendan rolled his eyes while Steven just sniggered at the disturbing image he almost created. It was hard to imagine much of anything that wasn't the kid right then, though, not with Steven's groin pressed against his own. Brendan brought his hand back around and popped open the fly of Steven's slacks, then pulled down the zipper. He was ready to slide his hands down the front of the younger man's underwear when Steven spoke.

"You're right, I should change."

"What?" Brendan asked, confused.

"That's you opened my pants right, so I can change?"

Brendan couldn't tell if the lad was pulling his leg or if he was serious, because Steven's face was completely blank. It was a good thing he couldn't play Texas Hold 'Em. Instead of humouring him, Brendan just told him to shut up before he dipped his hand down the front of Steven's briefs, and wrapped it around the boy's shaft. It didn't take long for Steven to start hardening up and drop his head to Brendan's shoulder.

"We're gonna be late," the words were breathy as they escaped Steven's mouth, and he didn't really sound like he was too bothered if they did end up being late.

Brendan turned his head and kissed the side of Steven's head. "You better be fast, then."

He dropped to his knees, slipped his fingers into the top of the boy's trousers and boxers, and pulled them down together. Steven wasn't completely hard yet, but rather than stroking the length a few more times, Brendan licked a strip from the head of Steven's dick to where coarse hair started to thicken. Steven shuddered on top and tangled his fingers into Brendan's hair, whether it was habit or for stability, Brendan didn't care, he liked the feeling of Steven tugging at his dark strands.

He kissed the tip of the head and slithered the tip of his tongue into the slit, eliciting a curse above him. He knew how sensitive Steven was, so instead of sliding it into his mouth, Brendan brushed against it with his stubble and tache. He had his hand firmly on Steven's backside, the skin there pebbling when he reacted to the prickling sensation.

"Fuck, Brady," Steven panted, his fingers tightening in the older man's hair.

Brendan glanced up to see Steven had his eyes closed and his head forward. His mouth was wet and open, the pinkness of it blooming as blood rushed through his body with the rapid speed of his heart. He licked over his lips to moisten them more, but kept his mouth open, little whimpers escaping every now and then while Brendan swirled his tongue around the head.

They really did have to hurry up, though, so Brendan took in the length into his mouth in one fluid movement. Steven must not have been expecting it after all the slow torture; he jerked his hips in a harsh movement, causing his length to fall deeper into Brendan's mouth and hit the back of his throat. Steven started to apologise, so to tell him that it was okay, Brendan swallowed around the head, letting it glide down his throat until he had Steven all the way down to the root.

This time, Steven's tensed grip was due to stability. His knees buckled and Brendan had to dig his fingers into the plush flesh of the boy's arse to keep him from falling. He pulled out slowly when he needed to breathe, and by the time he did, the boy had caught enough of himself to stay upright, allowing Brendan to use one hand to cup Steven's balls.

He kept his mouth as moist as possible while he bobbed up and down, taking Steven down his throat at least twice more. Steven tensed up with the build-up of his orgasm, but it wasn't till Brendan coated two of his fingers with spittle and rubbed them against the boy's rim while he continued to worship Steven's cock, did he finally spill into Brendan's mouth. He was already coming, there was no reason for Brendan to push his fingers inside, but he did anyway and curved them in until he found the boy's spot, provoking him to actually yell out God's name in vain, before his knees gave in and he fell to the floor.

"That was no way to call out for Jesus Christ, our Saviour." Brendan grinned, wiping away a bit of come from the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licking it off.

Steven attempted to shove him, but he sort of just fell into Brendan instead, his chest rising and falling heavily. "That is no way to treat the guy whose father you're about to sit down and eat dinner with for the next couple hours."

Brendan rumbled a laugh and stood up, pulling Steven with him as he did. "Speaking of, we have to go."

Steven tucked himself back in and made himself presentable again, well as presentable as he could be by neatening up his clothes. He still looked debauched. Which reminded Brendan that he had to sort out his hair, it definitely looked like someone had been pulling at it mid coitus. Steven asked if Brendan wanted the favour returned, and if the boy's expression was anything to go by, it wasn't just a favour for Brendan. The older man kissed him and promised him the night.

"Let's go eat." Brendan tugged at Steven's elbow to get him out.

"I thought you just did," Steven smirked. Brendan just rolled his eyes.

Dinner was awkward at first. Steven's sisters didn't quite know how to talk to him initially, they didn't know whether or not to mention the fact that he was blind, or that he was flying out the next day for a major surgery. Because of it, they all played with anything they could get their hands on, rather than start a conversation.

It was Leela, the eldest, who eventually sighed and asked Steven what he liked to do. It was obviously the right question, and Steven went off on a monologue about sculpting. Brendan was sure that if he paid enough attention, he'd be able to pick up on iambic pentameters, because the kid was waxing poetic.

After that, one question led to another and sooner or later, they were comfortable enough to ask questions that highlighted the fact that Steven couldn't see. Steven answered them without missing a beat and they all seemed like they actually wanted to hear. Tegan, the middle sister, had her daughter there as well, and soon Steven was cooing over the kid. From an observer, it probably would've looked like the family had known each other forever.

Eventually, it was Sam, Danny's wife that brought up the surgery. Steven, ostentatiously, seemed unbothered, he smiled and repeated details about the surgery. It was his hands on his laps that gave him away. They were fisted tightly around serviette, so tight that his knuckles popped white. Brendan hadn't said much all night, he smiled and told the family a bit about himself, but he spent most of the time letting Steven get acquainted with everyone. He had started to wonder what his use for attending the evening was until that point.

He subtly wrapped his hand around one of Steven's fists and the boy instantaneously relaxed, loosening his hold and flipping his hand around so he could interlink his fingers with Brendan. The whole thing went unnoticed by everyone else, but that was why Brendan was there. To act as the absorbent to all of his anxieties, so that he could be his happy self to everyone else.

When they got home, Steven's phone had four new numbers on it and the promise that they'd Skype, so that he could see them when he woke up from his surgery. Steven had told them that he wouldn't get his sight back that quick, that if he did get it back, it come slowly, blurs that eventually formed clear images. It would take months, but the girls were insistent and eventually he agreed that yes, it'd be nice to see blobs of them. They didn't discuss the possibility of Steven not waking up.

Steven fell into bed as soon as they entered the room. They were all packed for the next day, and Brendan had brought his luggage over to Steven's place, so they could leave together the next day. There was nothing more to do than sleep. That wasn't going to happen though, not with Doug coming out of his room with three others and storming into Steven's room and pouncing on him on the bed.

"Danielle, your lip gloss is getting in my hair," Steven grumbled pushing away the girl's head.

"How do you know it's me and not Casey? She's wearing the same perfume." Danielle retorted before plunging in to place a kiss on Steven's cheek, making sure as much lip gloss as possible smeared across his face.

"Casey doesn't wear sticky lip gloss."

That was when Casey kissed Steven on the other cheek, hers a lot more civilised. Steven huffed and asked Thayer if he wanted in on the action too, but the sous chef just told him that he must need that surgery more than they believed if Steven thought that he was going anywhere near him. Doug shoved him for that, but Steven just smiled fondly and shrugged.

They brought out the beers and all settled on Steven's bed. Doug was in charge of the music, and he threatened to peel off the skin on the fingers of anyone who dared to change the track. Brendan did it just to see his reaction, and when the Yank turned around and saw that it was Brendan, he shrunk into what could only be described as a puppy pile on the bed.

All of them drank and joked until they passed out, the lightweights. Brendan didn't quite feel in place with them. He liked all of them well enough and he fitted in with them, but they had years of inside jokes with the boy, people they all knew, but Brendan didn't, and more to the point, they were several years younger than him. He could fit in all he wanted, but he wasn't one of them.

Casey and Danielle had fallen asleep on either side of Steven, Casey curling up to the boy. Doug had retreated to his room while Thayer was at the foot of the bed, and sort of cradling Danielle's foot. Brendan went into the hallway where he knew all the extra blankets and towels were to retrieve three coverlets. He put one over Casey, Steven and Danielle, tucking the bottom in, so that it didn't cover Thayer, suffocating him. He placed the second one over Thayer, and left with the third.

Steven's sofa was a bit too short for Brendan's six foot height, but he lay back on it, anyway, and covered himself with the final blanket. He could've sent the trio home, called them a cab, but Brendan was leaving with Steven tomorrow, and they had only tonight before their friend allowed someone to play operation in his skull. They needed Steven more than he did.

He was staring up at the ceiling when there were soft footsteps coming his way. Steven had changed into his sleeping clothes earlier in the night, and now he looked like ridiculously adorable with his t-shirt rumbled, his pyjama pants low on his hips and his hair sticking out at all ends. He didn't say anything as he shoved Brendan, forcing the man to turn to his side to make room. Without a word, the boy slotted into the curve of Brendan's body, his back to the older man's chest, and fell asleep again. It wasn't long before Brendan drifted off too.

There were snapping fingers in front of his face when he woke up the next morning. Doug hastily took his fingers back when Brendan reached out to shatter them to pieces, and offered him a coffee instead. Steven was still asleep, wrapped up in Brendan's hold, so he had to be extra careful to get up without waking the boy. It was useless, seeing as Thayer came in – looking like shit – right up to Steven's face and loudly declared it was time for sleeping beauty to wake up. Brendan glared at him, but the sous chef just smirked back.

The morning was a flurry of groaning about hangovers and tears as they bid Steven goodbye. They promised that they'd see him soon, and they were sorry they couldn't fly out too. Tony needed them at the restaurant, considering that he was leaving with Steven and Brendan. Even Thayer hugged the lad with an intensity that words could never articulate. Steven always said that the sous chef cared in his own way, but it was only then that Brendan really witnessed the true extent of it. They hugged for a long while, until Steven whispered something in his friend's ear, making Thayer nod and release his hold. Nobody mentioned sous chef's red eyes.

They weren't due to leave for the airport for another few hours, so there was enough time for a visit from Danny and baby Rose, the niece Steven fell in love with. Steven was visibly upset by the time they left, and even more so when Doug bid him goodbye. Brendan kissed away the tears, until the only thing he could feel were good things. He hadn't made good on his promise the night before in regards to their night activity thanks to the impromptu party, so he let Steven do with him as he pleased then.

They hadn't had sex yet. They did plenty that could be measured as sexual activity, but the actual deed was something that was yet to happen. Brendan did want to do it, but Steven's preliminary thoughts on Brendan, his original distrustfulness revolved around the fact that Brendan had sex before he even said two words to the person he was shoving his cock into. He just wanted to make sure Steven believed him when he promised that what he felt for the kid was more than physical attraction.

His phone rang three times that morning, one from Cheryl and two from Kyle. He also received a picture message from the man, but he didn't open the thing. He called Tony to let him know to come over to the flat in an hour so that they could leave together for their flight. Amy had already flown to Switzerland the day before. Flying from Africa was a much longer ride and she didn't want to be too tired when Steven arrived, so she was going to sleep until they got there.

It was when Steven was texting Casey back that Brendan finally opened the picture message he had gotten from Kyle, and as soon as he did, his grip tightened around the devise. It was a photo of Steven and him from the night before in town when they went to dinner with Danny and the family. Brendan had his arm around Steven's shoulder in the photo, his finger intertwined with the boy's, and he was kissing him on the temple. It was on the way there, Steven had been nervous and Brendan was trying to make him feel better.

The message with the photo told Brendan to call back. That was it, but the unwritten threat was there. The _or else_. Brendan looked over at Steven to make sure he was okay before he told him that he was going to step out to make a call. He went all the way out to the outside hallway to do it, not wanting Kyle to know the Steven was nearby.

The man picked up pretty much straight away. "I see you got my message, even if you didn't get my numerous calls."

"What do you want, Kyle?" Brendan asked, feigning ignorance.

"Fuck you, you double crossing piece of shit." Kyle spat out, forgoing his attempt to be threatening via a calm demeanour. "I went by your flat, it seems you haven't been there in a while. The club too."

"And?"

"And if you think you can avoid me, you can think again. I will rip the pretty skin off that twink you're fucking and use it for wrapping paper to parcel his severed limbs in."

Brendan took a deep breath and closed his eyes, counted to ten before he allowed himself to speak. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want? Meet me at the railway bridge over Candine Street in half an hour." Kyle hung up after that.

Brendan stood in the hallway, his limbs felt numb and his heart rocketed up in pace. He didn't know what to do, they had to leave for the airport soon, but he knew that if he fucked with Kyle again, the man wouldn't hesitate to use Steven in order to teach him a lesson. Brendan didn't stab Kyle in the back just to have everything go to shit again when it came to Steven.

He didn't know how long he stood there when Tony came up to him and asked him if he was okay. Brendan looked up and nodded, not really aware of his actions. They both walked back into the house, and Brendan smiled towards Steven when the boy asked if he was okay. He nodded again, but Steven didn't seem to believe him. Tony stayed in the living room while the lad took him into the room that felt like he could call theirs.

"What's the matter?" Steven asked, a frown etched into his forehead and his arms crossed.

"I – Something's come up and I'm gonna have to catch a later flight."

Brendan didn't think it was possible, but the frown on the boy's face deepened. "What?"

"I have to sort something out, I'll be there for the surgery." Brendan promised. He reached out for the boy, but Steven shrugged him away and took a step back. He wasn't frowning anymore.

"Did I do something?" Steven's voice broke in a way that tore at Brendan's heart.

"No, no." Brendan didn't let Steven evade his touch this time. He cupped the side of the boy's face and leaned his forehead against Steven's. "I just – Steven, I love you, do you understand that? Like actual, real love. Not forbidden, cheap hotels, secrets in the night, wrong, bad idea type of love. Not the cotton candy, first time, sweet scented, stolen kisses at the door, teen love. I love you in the forever kind of way. Lazy sex in the morning and three days old pizza in bed way. Pretend to like Cheryl Cole and rocking chairs side by side way. I _love_ you, Steven. _Love_ love.

Steven had his eyes closed, forcing himself not to cry. He swallowed down and nodded his head. "You promise to be there as soon as possible?"

Brendan kissed him on the mouth deeply before he pulled him into a tight embrace. He inhaled the boy's scent, filling his lungs up with it. "I promise."

Xxx

Kyle wasn't alone when Brendan met up with him, and he most certainly was not happy. If it were possible, his anger would have allowed him to spit fire through his eyes. Brendan wasn't easily intimated by anyone, much less Kyle, but he also had done nothing to piss off Kyle in the past. The man's feet were spread shoulder apart, and he somehow looked taller than Brendan, even though he knew the man was at least a couple inches shorter. His two cronies stood on either side of him, like bulldogs awaiting an order.

"Did you get my money?" Kyle asked when he looked Brendan over and saw that he had no bag on him.

"I spent it." Brendan replied, making sure his voice was steady.

"You spent the money? Within a week you spent all that cash."

Brendan hummed in agreement. What he actually did with all the money was put it in Steven's account the very next day. No doctor on earth would take such a large some in cash form, and so he had to make it seem legit by putting it in the bank. The woman who helped him had looked at him weird, but she didn't say much else. From Steven, the money was going to go to the doctor, and Steven was going to get his life back. Brendan didn't spend the money, he did what he had to do.

"Brendan, I really don't want things to get messy, so just give me my money, and we'll let things be."

Brendan rubbed his face and stepped forward. He wasn't going to back away like some coward. "I don't have it."

He really should've seen it coming when Kyle trudged his way in heavy footsteps and punched him across the face. The bastard had a ring on his finger and it had caused the skin on his nose to split. It wasn't as painful as much as it burned, sending a stinging sensation to Brendan's eyes. He blinked a few times and spat out the blood that had gathered in his mouth before he stood up straight again.

"You're a greedy motherfucker, you know that?" Kyle was so close to his face that he could smell the mint from the gum the man was chewing. It irritated his nose and he just barely stopped himself from sneezing in Kyles face. "Fifty-fifty was the deal, you son of a bitch. Not, you take it all and leave me a twenty to rub in the fact that you double crossed me."

Fifty percent of the cut hadn't been enough. He probably didn't need it all, but it was better to take it in its entirety than take some. All meant that he could get away with presenting himself as a traitor, who just wanted money. Some meant question would arise. Questions like, why did he need that specific amount. He had wanted to keep Steven out of the equation. That had worked out great so far. As for the twenty, Brendan was a little shit and he just couldn't help himself.

"What can I say Kyle, I'm high maintenance, it takes a lot to look as suave as this." It probably wasn't very smart to get cocky, and the blinding ache that spread across his face after Kyle punched him again, proved that.

"I'm gonna give you one more opportunity. You take me to where the money is and hand it over, or I swear to God, I will kill you."

Brendan chuckled as he rounded the man and walked to where his cronies stood. "For someone who's so confident in his ability to come across as menacing, you kind of ruin it by needing back up to confront little ol' me on my lonesome."

Kyle cracked his neck and practically sneered at Brendan. The bar owner was aware of the fact that he shouldn't poke an already aggravated lion, but it was an old habit that just wouldn't die. Brendan had been intimidated all his life by his father, he had grown up building a defence mechanism to hide his fears, whether or not he was actually scared. Right now, Brendan was in limbo. He was scared for Steven, rather than himself.

Kyle nodded his head towards his two men and this time Brendan was prepared for it. He blocked the first punch and buried his fist into one the cronies' abdomen, and knocked his head back to butt it hard against the other one that came up behind him. Still, two on one wasn't exactly a fair ratio, and despite getting in several blows, Brendan found himself coughing out blood after a hard kick to his chest. They kept going at it, until Kyle finally told them to relent.

He was in a foetal position on the ground, his lungs protesting every time he breathed. Kyle stood close to him, his feet by Brendan's head when crouched down to get a better look at him, tilting his head to a side in faux sympathy.

"I told you, Brendan, I didn't want things to get messy. Why do you never listen to me? Like that time I reminded you that if you're not with me, you're against me. You seem insistent on proving you're not on my side."

Brendan just about managed to rasp out a fuck you. It only caused Kyle to stand up and kick him in the stomach. It was really saying something that Brendan was just thankful then that the kick wasn't to his chest. He didn't need a doctor to tell him that he had a punctured lung. Kyle crouched down again, and with his fingers, he swiped away some of the blood on Brendan's face. He looked at it as if mesmerised while he started to talk again.

"I expected more from you. Your reputation built you up to be this big, scary monster." Kyle pouted slightly before he took his eyes off his fingers and smiled at Brendan when he looked at him again. "You're just a squishy human, I'm disappointed, to be honest."

"Sorry about that." Brendan heaved as he tried to push himself up, his lungs roaring at him to stop it. Kyle did that for him, he pushed him down and rolled him over, so that he was on his back.

The man stood over him and looked him over before he called over the other two. Kyle started to bite his nails as he spoke to Brendan, his words casual as fuck, "I think we should see just how human you are."

One of the thugs took Brendan's legs and the other took his arms to lift him up. Neither responded when Brendan asked what they were playing at, and Brendan didn't really have any strength to break away from their vice like hold on him.

"I'm a man of my word, Brendan, unlike you." Kyle commented from somewhere, Brendan couldn't see him anymore, not while the two cronies moved him. "I told you I'd only give you one more opportunity to give me my money. You didn't take it."

Brendan's adrenaline kicked in then, his pain subsiding as he kicked and struggled at the hold on him. It made Kyle laugh to see him fight, to see him fight fruitlessly. Brendan didn't scream as it drew closer. He didn't cry. He closed his eyes and saw his mother. She was in the kitchen, baking, she let him lick the bowl, and when he got it all over his face, he giggled when she wiped it off his face with her fingers and licked the chocolate off.

He saw Cheryl's Ma, her holding him at night when he woke up in tears thinking he was watching his mother flat line all over again after fighting cancer for years. He remembered her voice telling him that she wasn't his Ma, but she loved him and Cheryl more than life itself. He saw Cheryl, the first time he saw her blue eyes and little blonde curls. The way she used to sleep on his chest as a baby, listening to his heartbeat. He remembered running with her across the field, the seaside, the house. He remembered laughing with her, fights with her, crying with her when her Ma died in a hit and run. He saw himself giving her away when she got married and the pictures she sent of her baby Christopher.

He saw Eileen, forcing himself to be with her and hating that he couldn't love her in the way she wanted. He saw them break up when she lost their baby girl. He kissed her and promised her that she'll always be the only woman he let into his life the way he let her. He saw Anne, him punching some guy that tried to take advantage of her. Her following him around after until he finally relented and let them hang out. He saw her insist that they were best friends always when she left for a career in the states and him denying it, even though the fondness in his eyes agreed with her.

He saw Steven. The way he laughed, the baby blue of his eyes, the depth of them. The way they saw a million secrets and nothing at all. He saw his own hands gliding over soft skin, and a petal soft mouth gasping, moaning, begging. He saw whispered conversation in the middle of the night, planting a tree and swimming in the sea. He saw raindrops on lashes and smiles that made him feel alive. He saw falling in love and the meaning of what it meant to want something forever.

When he was lifted up over the barriers on the bridge, and he heard Kyle bid him goodnight, when he felt himself falling, he didn't see the sky. He saw life itself, and then everything went black.

_if you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above_

_if you must live, darling on, just live_


	11. Teach Me To Live

Just think of this part of the story as a sequel to the first part. If this were a paperback, then it'd be published separately. First novel, Ste is blind. Second novel, he has his sight back. As i have mentioned to a few of you, the story shifts now, and i do hope that you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter 11 **

_3 years later…_

Ste groaned and pulled his duvet over his head when someone ripped the curtains open and announced that it was time to get up. He wasn't used to all the light, even now, every morning his head would hurt as his brain and eyes tried to process all the images, the colours. After all these years, he still didn't think it was worth it.

He held on tight to his duvet as someone started tugging on the end in an attempt to pull it off of him. He grumbled something incomprehensible and rolled over so that he was wrapped up in the blanket, making it almost impossible for it to be extracted from him without his permission. There was a chuckle before the other person gave up and just decided to crawl on top of him instead.

They pulled the duvet down from his face and kissed his nose, provoking Ste to scrunch it up. It only made the other person laugh and kiss him again, this time a sloppy, hard one on his cheek. Ste sighed and allowed the duvet to be slowly unwrapped from around him, but rather than the other person taking it off completely, they climbed inside and pulled the duvet up again, over both their heads, so that they were protected from the world.

"You gonna get up today? It's nearly noon." The voice was soft, and with their breaths trapped inside the cocoon, it was far too hot against his skin.

"No," Ste mumbled and buried his face in his pillow.

A hand swept across the side of his head to tuck away some unruly hair before it clasped around the back of his neck to draw him in closer. Ste allowed himself to be pulled into a broad chest, but he didn't make a move to return the embrace. It didn't feel right, not today. He just wanted to spend the rest of the day in the comfort of his bed, the curtains closed and his room pitch black, preferably. The way it should have been.

"Do you want me to call work and tell them you're not feeling well today?" The tone was so sympathetic and Ste hated it, he hated that there was anything to be sad about.

He barely nodded, but he must've been clear enough because he felt the duvet being removed from over their heads, so the other person could reach over for their phone. It didn't take long, Ste had a history of having mental breakdowns, so getting the day off wasn't going to be too difficult a task to complete. What he wasn't expecting though, was for the other person to say that they wouldn't be going in either.

"You didn't have to do that?" Ste mumbled as arms wrapped around him again.

"I know, but you shouldn't be alone today."

"Amy will probably Skype. Tony, Doug and the trio too."

He felt the sigh beneath his head rather than feel it. "It's not the same."

He was right. Nothing had been the same since he woke up all those years ago. In fact, he had spent the first two years wishing he hadn't woken up at all. That the doctor who'd taken a knife to his brain had slipped his hand, cut the part that told his heart to beat. Or at least the part that stored memories.

"Mattie," Ste called. "This isn't fair on you, is it?"

"Ste," Mattie pulled back and cupped his face as he finally opened his eyes. "I love you, and if you're hurting, then I'm going to be here to make you feel better. No matter the reason you're upset."

"It's weird though, for you to comfort me when I cry over my ex."

"Maybe," Mattie shrugged and pulled him in again. "But it's not like you're crying over someone who walked out on you. You're upset over someone who meant a great deal to you, but died too early. I can't be bitter about that, Ste."

Ste tried to smile, but it fell flat on his face. Mattie bowed his head and kissed Ste's eyelids, one at a time, then pulled the duvet over both their heads again with the promise that they wouldn't have to leave until Ste felt ready.

Ste had woken up two weeks after his surgery with Amy's hand tangled in his. Brady hadn't turned up to the surgery like he promised and Ste was equally angry as he was devastated. Still, when he had smelt Amy's flowery scent for the first time in what felt like forever, he managed to forget for a while that Brady wasn't there.

Before he was to be knocked out for his surgery, he asked for the older man once again, and Tony had promised that he'd be there when Ste woke up, that he was just caught up with the club or something. Ste didn't really believe it, and he didn't believe that Brady had just changed his mind either. He knew something was wrong, he felt it in every atom of his body, even as he went down under.

Something went wrong during the surgery. Not life threatening, but he ended up in a coma for two weeks while his mind and body healed. Amy had told Ste later that Tony had been on the verge of murdering the doctor for taking so much money, but messing up, anyway. Now, they all knew Tony had wanted to murder the doctor for more than that, for demanding so much from people who couldn't afford it, forcing them to go to desperate measures and end up the way Brady had.

When he had woken up, the bandage was still around his eyes, but he felt the softness of Amy's hands in his. He heard her gasp and call for the doctor when he squeezed her fingers and she had noticed that he'd woken up, Tony had arrived twenty minutes later, that's how long it took him to get a cab from the hotel. Ste had asked when Brady was going to get to the hospital, but he hadn't gotten a reply to his question.

Amy still had his hands in hers when they took the bandages off from around his eyes. He opened them slowly, dreading that it hadn't worked, but when he slit open his eyes the tiniest amount, the stark fluorescent lighting of the hospital had him squeezing them shut again. The doctor had told him to try again, slower this time, and after he had his eyes open all the way, he just about managed to make out three blobs that were supposed to be human figures.

He reached out a hand to where Amy's blurred face was and skimmed his fingers down her face, both their eyes filling up with tears. "You're so fucking blonde, Amy."

Amy laughed through her tears and leaned over to hug him tight. He looked over to the blurred person that could only Tony and smiled at him over Amy's shoulder. The chef didn't move until his best friends backed away, and then he squeezed the life out of him. Tony cursed him for being such a drama queen, constantly falling into comas and scaring the life out of everyone.

And that had reminded Ste that everyone wasn't there. Brady wasn't one of the blobs in the room. He couldn't really differentiate, he only knew Tony was Tony because of the fact that the other blob was all blue letting him know that the person was in scrubs. But he wasn't unaware enough to not know that only three people were in his room, none of which were the older man.

"Where's Brady?" Ste asked, when Tony let him go.

Amy and the chef had looked towards the doctor, who gave a small nod before he slunk out of the room. Amy sat on the bed beside Ste, and Tony took the chair by the bed. Neither of them spoke, but Amy's was tense by his side and her fingers in his hand were too tight. He looked between the two, waited and the first answer he got was Amy bursting into tears and apologising to him.

"Tony," Ste had wished his sight would clear out faster, so he could see the chef's expression, but his silence was telling too. "Tony, where is Brady, what's happened?"

Tony breathed in a shaky breath, "I don't know much, Ste, but they found his body on Candine Street. It looked like someone had done a number on him then threw him off the railway bridge."

Ste had blinked a few times, not quite believing what Tony was saying, "He's okay though, or he's going to be okay?"

Tony's voice broke when he told Ste that Brady was gone. That the club had a new owner already and his flat had been put up for sale. They didn't know much else, not even who did it, but Tony was pretty sure it had something to do with the way he had gotten the money. The chef wasn't a naïve man, that kind of money didn't come into someone's possession as fast as Brady had gotten it without consequences.

Ste had screamed. Screamed so loud that the doctors and to come in and put him to sleep. When he woke up again, he didn't speak. Not to Tony or Amy when they tried their best to be there for him. The first words he spoke, was to tell them that it was his fault that Brady was gone. That to save his life, Brady paid with his own. Amy had gotten angry, told her that if Brady loved him the way Ste and Tony said he did, then the man would do it all over again. Tony agreed, but Ste fell into a dark place.

He cried hard when Amy left again, clutched onto her to silently ask her to stay. But he didn't deserve that, he deserved to be alone, so he didn't say a word when she kissed him goodbye. He didn't leave with Tony when it was their turn to go. Tony couldn't understand, they argued, well, Tony had shouted at him and Ste had kept repeating that he wasn't going back. He couldn't bear to be back in Hollyoaks where memories resided in the place of where Brady should've been.

Tony had eventually gone back to England, but before he did, he rented Ste a flat and made sure he had enough money for the first few months. Most of that cash had been from what was left over from what Brady had gotten him. Blood money. The chef called every day to make sure Ste hadn't taken a razor to his wrists. Ste didn't mention that he even though he didn't cry anymore, he had started to sleep walk from all the stress, that sometimes he found it difficult to breathe. He didn't even mention it when he ended up in a busy road, then had a panic attack after he realised where he was, and collapsed due to it.

When his eyesight returned properly five months after the surgery, Ste cried for the first time in a long time when he saw the trio's faces on Skype. Danielle and Casey were so beautiful, in completely contrasting ways. Danielle was all dark eyes and hair and red lipstick, but a smile that was too sweet for her wicked sense of humour. Casey had been blonde at one point, but now she was dusty brown and had green eyes that sparkled. She bit her lips a lot and Ste didn't know if it was from habit, or if she was trying to stop herself from crying.

Tony had lost a lot of hair in the past years, he had crow eyes and defined laugh lines, but he still looked like the man who had taken Ste under his wings when he was ten years old. Thayer, the bastard, was too good looking for his own good. He had that Abercrombie thing going on, and the whole jackass thing made a lot more sense after that. Good looking guys, who knew it were always dicks.

Amy was as beautiful as ever, her hair still flowed like water, and her smile still looked like it was made of sunshine and rainbows. Doug was a little different to what he was expecting. Ste hated how all his friends were good looking, he had hoped that Doug would look like a ball sack. But no, he had to look like a flower, instead.

After he had finished Skyping all his friends he had drank himself to numbness till he could forget that he couldn't see Brady. It hadn't worked, he had looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, observed the little upturn of his nose, the way his hair was growing out after he had shaved it for his surgery, those hideous blue eyes that had cost him everything. He had torn at them, made the thin skin over his eyes bleed till he fell to the floor, his lungs heavy inside his ribs as he battled to catch his breath. He stopped fighting after a little while and just let himself go.

When he had woken up he was in his bathroom still, his face stung and his head hurt. Tony had skyped him again to check that he was okay, but Ste had forgotten the state he had put himself in, so when Tony saw him, the man caught the first flight over to bring him back. They had argued for days until Ste admitted that he wasn't coping as well as he had made out, but he didn't think he'd cope at all back in Hollyoaks.

That was when it became clear that Ste really wasn't going to return. Doug sent him his belongings, but when the American asked if he wanted his sculptures too, Ste had told him to throw them all out. He knew that the bust of Brady would allow him some semblance of what the man looked like, but he didn't want to see an echo of the real thing. Ste didn't deserve it.

Tony stayed with him for two weeks and only left after he booked Ste in to see a shrink. He had to promise that he'd go to every appointment, and Tony wanted to see his appointment cards signed to prove that he had gone. Ste begrudgingly agreed. He didn't want to see a psychiatrist, but Tony was getting too worried about him, and he owed it to the chef to give him peace of mind after years of concern.

The psychiatrist he was assigned to worked at a larger clinic. It had inpatients, as well as people like Ste who came in for the day, and was an extension of the hospital. The place was apparently renowned for its success rate, and on his first day there Ste had found himself scoffing at some of the treatments. It was a lot like the place he had been to back when he first lost his sight, and in actuality it was more of a retreat that tried to help people ease back into the real world. Ste had been blind for most his life, he guessed he should've fit right in.

The shrink he had was someone called Matthew Rideal, or as Ste now called him, Mattie. Ste went to him every week and barely said two words to him, just got his appointment card signed and left. He did answer the man's questions, but his responses never really revealed much. It was Brady's first death anniversary that finally had Ste breaking down to the psychiatrist.

He didn't know anyone in Switzerland. He didn't even have a job, Tony sent him enough money to survive every month, and it wasn't like he had a night life to splash cash on. So when that day came, Ste had no one to turn to. He had gone to his appointment as usual, was as distant as ever, but when he got outside the building, he lost it.

Someone had called for a doctor when they realised that he was having a panic attack, and when he came back to his senses, he was in one of the private rooms with Mattie sat beside him, his clipboard missing, and his eyebrows raised when he looked Ste over.

"All the information I have on you is that you lost your sight when you were a child in unfortunate circumstances, and you weren't coping well now that you have it back." Mattie had said to him, his head to a side, his gaze still enquiring.

"That's all there is to know." Ste's throat hurt and he realised that he must've have been shouting at some point.

"Mm-hmm, who's Brady?" Mattie asked, not missing a beat. "You asked for him again and again, screamed his name until we had to sedate you." The man lifted up his hand and flipped it around, so the back was to Ste to reveal scratch marks along it.

"Where's your clipboard?" Ste grumbled as he tried to sit up on the bed. "Isn't this like porn for you shrinks?"

Mattie had given him a lop sided smile and nodded slowly, "except, your time is up, and I'm here as someone who is worried about you. Not as someone whose job it is to listen to you." The man stood up and walked over to where a mini fridge was to pull out two J2Os, explaining that they weren't allowed alcohol or carbonated drinks in the premise. He passed one over to Ste and sat back down. "So, who's Brady?"

And Ste told him. Told him how they met, Ste's insistence that they remain friends, only for him to be the one that had ended up kissing Brady. How he was so stupid to have believed that he could've ever not had feelings for the older man, and because of it he had wasted so much time. He told him about the bust, how he worked with clay, but hadn't done a face sculpture for years until Brady.

He told him about the list, and Brady making as many of the wishes as he could come true, how he never told him that Brady had unknowingly crossed out _conquer a fear_. Ste had been so scared to fall in love because he didn't want to feel the pain that came with it, but he had fallen for Brady, and he'd fallen hard. He hadn't even had the chance to tell the older man, he wanted to be able to look him in the eyes when he did, but it was too late.

He told him about the surgery, them needing all that money, but not having it. The lengths Brady went to and what it most probably led to. How it was all his fault, that the older man had been so scared to lose him, and in a twist of fate it was Ste who had lost Brady.

What he didn't tell the shrink was that after everything Brady had done for him, after all those months, he still hadn't asked Brady what his name was. He could've requested that Tony or someone to find out for him if they didn't already know, but just like looking at the bust, Ste didn't deserve it.

Mattie hadn't said a word throughout the entire word vomiting, and when Ste was done, he smiled. He said that if Ste really did mean to Brady as much as it sounded like he did, then the older man probably died thinking of him, and that was a pretty good way to go.

"I'm not on the clock, and this is off the record," Mattie had leaned forward and interlinked his fingers together. "With everything you two have been through, it still sounds like he was the luckiest guy in the world. This is not the doctor in me saying this, but the human. People crave love, understanding, intimacy, and if you can have that even for a day, then you're luckier than half the people in this world. You may have never told him that you love him, but you gave him someone to love. You gave him something no one else had."

In the long run it was comforting to hear that, but at that moment Ste had just wanted Brady by his side. Wanted Brady to tell him what Mattie had. He wanted hear the Irish drawl, smell the cinnamon and mint scent the man carried. He wanted to laugh at the way everything that came out of Brady's mouth sounded sarcastic, except for when he was telling Ste how he felt, then he'd sound raw with so much honesty. He just wanted Brady back.

The appointments pretty much carried on the same, silent way until one day Mattie had turned up at Ste's flat and demanded that they go out for a drink. It wasn't a date, and later, Mattie had revealed that he had been trying a different way to treat Ste, because sitting on a sofa while the hour counted down didn't seem to work. The appointments were merely an obligation that Ste was fulfilling for the sake of others.

Mattie's new treatment consisted of getting Ste out of the house and getting to know people. Ste had been living in Switzerland for a year by then, and the only people he spoke to were his old female neighbour with the dog that kept running away to Ste's flat, and the shop keeper at his local. Both these people were nice to him and Daisy, his neighbour, gave him Sunday roast every week when she cooked it for her grandkids who came to visit her. Fred the shop guy tried to make him laugh every time he saw Ste, and sometimes Ste would actually smile at his jokes.

Apparently, though, it was unhealthy of him to have no one he called a friend, so Mattie had made it his mission to take him out to meet people, off the clock. First, it was drinks, then it was parties Mattie had been invited too, which he'd drag Ste along too, and soon, Mattie had somehow persuaded him to throw a party and invite everyone in his block of flats. Somewhere along the line, Mattie had been the only one Ste could call a friend.

One day, Ste had told Mattie that he needed a job because he didn't want to live off Tony all the time. The man was still paying him his wages, even though he didn't work for him anymore. Mattie helped him fill job apps, but it was when he was in the clinic playing around in the kid's side with play dough, did Ste catch his break.

Mattie had talked to the powers that be and managed to get Ste a job at the clinic as a clay sculpting teacher. It was created just for him, but Mattie had sold it well. It became a compulsory class for those that needed physical therapy with hand and arm movement, but others signed up too as part of their retreat. He wasn't the best teacher, got frustrated easily, but as time went on he got better.

He got better in all ways until Brady's second death anniversary hit, and everything came rushing back. Mattie had turned up with a bottle of Jameson to honour Brady, and when Ste had woken up the next day, Mattie had been in his bed. Ste ran while the man slept. He left his phone and his keys, just put on his shoes and ran. He didn't know many places and those he did Mattie knew them too, so it didn't take long for the doctor to find him.

"I didn't think I was gay." That had been the first thing Mattie had said.

Ste had laughed and shook his head, "Well, I've discovered that I'm quite pretty."

Mattie took a seat next to him on the bench in the park Ste had found himself in and sighed. "I'm sorry, Ste. You're still grieving and I shouldn't have let get things get as far as they did. I just, I do like you, like that. So when you kissed me, I just went with it."

Ste snapped his head around to face the other man, "I kissed you? Did we go all the way?"

Mattie had shaken his head, "Yes and no… I told you that I've never been with a guy before, so you got down on your knees instead."

Ste groaned and buried his face in his hands, the feeling of betraying Brady overtaking him. "Fuck fuck fuck."

"Ste, I'm sorry. I know you still love him, and I just confused you –"

He stopped talking when Ste started shaking his head and asking him to shut up. Ste was the one that should have been apologising, he kissed Mattie and because Mattie had feelings for him, he had let Ste. Ste may feel like he betrayed Brady, but he hurt Mattie too because he couldn't even remember the night, but the other man could and it had actually meant something to him.

Mattie had left Ste to it after that, handed him his keys, so he could get back in the flat and left. When Ste had gone in to work the next day, the man had avoided him when they passed. Ste had felt like shit, they had long ago agreed that it was unprofessional for Ste to have Mattie as his shrink after they became friends, but he really wanted to talk to the man now.

He had called Amy, told her what had happened. She tried to bite her tongue, but eventually told him in no uncertain terms that Brady had been gone for two years, and Ste needed to move on. Ste shouted that she never really liked Brady, that he would not betray him like that, but then his best friend had thrown out how he being miserable for the rest of his life would be what really betrayed Brady. That Brady risked his life to insure that Ste had one, but Ste was refusing to live it.

Three weeks after the drunken night, Ste had stormed in to Mattie's office mid-session and demanded that the doctor speak to him. He looked a little pissed off because his patient was in the middle of sobbing, so Ste apologised and backed away. When Mattie finished and Ste went back into the office, Mattie had been ready to bite his head off, but Ste stopped him with a kiss.

"I do love Brady, still. I'll always love him. And I don't want to move on from him, I don't want to leave him behind as a memory. I wanna use what he taught me and learn to live."

Mattie had is mouth agape in speechlessness and it just made Ste smile. Eventually the man frowned and said, "I might be Bi. Like I was totally down with giving you a hand job the other night, but that new receptionist with the five inch heels has a really nice bum."

Ste laughed at that. The new receptionist was a fifty something year old woman trying her hardest to cling on to her youth. Ste kissed him again, and a year on, they were still together. A year on and Mattie had told him that he loved Ste, but still held him close when Ste cried over another man. Still bought a bottle of Jameson the night before to remember Brady, to raise a glass to the man he was and the man he created in Ste, the way he taught Ste to breathe.

No, Mattie wasn't bitter that Ste loved Brady, he was thankful that Brady had taught him to love at all, that loving was painful, but a good type of pain.

It was about seven in the evening and Ste hadn't left the bed other than to go to the bathroom. Mattie had gotten food for him every now and then, and sat next to him the whole day. Now the man returned with the bottle of Jameson he had bought the night before and poured them both a glass, then passed one to Ste. He sat back down next to him and kissed him gently on the lips.

"I love you, Steven Hay," Mattie mumbled against Ste's lips.

Ste smiled, but he didn't have it in him to say the actual words back. He did love Mattie, and he had said it to him in the past. But this was Brady's day, and Ste could only remember how much he loved the man who died for him. So Ste just nodded and kissed him again. When they broke apart Mattie brought up his glass so Ste could clink it with his.

"To Brady." Mattie mumbled.

Ste smiled, but his eyes stung, "to Brady."


	12. Begin Again

**Chapter 12**

"Okay, people, I need to get ready for my class after lunch, so move your arses." Ste called out to the group he had that morning.

They rolled their eyes at him, but did move a little faster. He liked this group probably the least. They never really listened to him and was mainly filled with teenagers, who thought they were above physical therapy, could make it on their own. He had tried to do what Mattie suggested and let them in, tell them that he had used sculpting as a way of expressing himself when he lost his sight. Except, it only worked with the girls. They boys didn't want to hear a sob story, and the girls just developed a crush on him. It didn't help that he was only twenty four and still had difficulty growing full facial hair.

When the group finally left, he made sure everything was prepped for his next class before he headed for the cafeteria where he was supposed to meet Mattie for lunch. The doctor was already sitting at the table they normally resided in, but he wasn't alone. Opposite him sat Dr Franklin, the shrink Mattie had reassigned Ste to. Ste hoped they weren't talking about him.

"Hey," Mattie smiled when he saw Ste and brought out the paper bag with Ste's lunch in it. "I got us sandwiches from that new deli that replaced the coffee house."

Ste expressed his gratitude, sat down on his chair beside Mattie, and then kissed the man hello.

"Urgh will you two just get married already so you can hate each other as much as the rest of us hate our spouses." Dr Franklin said with a faux nauseated expression, then took a bite of his own sandwich and raised an eyebrow to Mattie as if to silently ask him if this was an actual possibility.

Mattie just laughed and told the other doctor that they wouldn't hate each other if they got married, but he didn't really see the point. They lived together already, they were practically married, just without the signed document. Ste kind of shrunk away in his seat at that. It wasn't that he wanted to be married to Mattie on paper, the man was right, they were practically there, it's just that he'd have liked it to have been an option for the future.

Dr Franklin must've noticed Ste's reaction, because he smiled at Ste then turned to Mattie and explained that marriage was an act of declaring your love for all to see, that it was one of the greatest gestures to express to your loved one, because it says that this is it, this is forever. Even if Mattie had already decided that he wanted to be with Ste , maybe Ste would want something that symbolised that, even a piece of paper.

Mattie looked at Ste to see his reaction, but the younger man just stuffed his face with the sandwich and groaned dramatically at how good it tasted. It was alright, he'd had better, for god's sake, he had spent years working at an Italian restaurant, he knew what orgasm inducing food tasted like, and this sandwich was not it. That didn't stop him from making it seem like he could come then and there, though.

Dr Franklin chuckled, but he noticed that Ste was getting uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. "I have a new patient. He got transferred here from abroad because he was being all rebellious in his last place. You think I can give him off to you, Dr Rideal?"

Mattie snorted and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm over his head before he brought them back down and placed one at the back of Ste's chair. "Don't think so, if this is the new inpatient I heard shouting at the nurse trying to check his vitals, then I'm okay with never crossing paths with him."

Ste took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed before he spoke, "you guys are the worst psychiatrists ever. Shouldn't you be, I dunno, trying to figure out what it is that's making this new guy so angry?"

Both the doctors started snickering at that, but it was Mattie that said anything. "Babe, you can't help people who don't want to be helped." When he saw the disappointed look on Ste's face, he sighed and turned to Franklin. "If he gives you too much trouble, then I'll check him out for you."

Ste smiled and mouthed a thank you to his boyfriend. If anyone could work magic, it would be Mattie. The guy just had a face that made it almost impossible to be rude to him, so this new guy would have to be comfortable with killing puppies if he wanted to lash out on the doctor. Also, Ste hadn't exactly been open to accepting help when he first met Mattie, and the man had him back to being a nearly fully functioning human being… well, aside from the occasional sleep walking and panic attacks that still occurred sporadically.

Dr Franklin finished off his lunch and bid them both goodbye, making sure he confirmed Ste's appointment for the Friday before he left. After the man was gone, Ste turned around to see that Mattie was staring at him questioningly. He did that often when Ste closed in on himself, and it was probably the shrink in him searching for answers, but Ste didn't think he was being distant then.

"You wanna get married?" Mattie asked, making Ste choke on his saliva.

"What?" Ste hoped his face wasn't flushing red.

"I saw the look Dr Franklin gave you, it's my job to pick out the little details." The doctor explained as he unscrewed his bottle of apple juice and sipped at it, then repeated, "do you wanna get married?"

Ste stuttered a little, tripped over his words and his tongue felt too large in his mouth, until he eventually managed to get out a few words. "Well, I wouldn't mind, and I don't mean now. Like in the future, way, way in the future."

Mattie raised a brow and gave him that lopsided smile that made Ste feel all flustered. "Well," he said and turned back to his sandwich and took a bite, speaking through a mouthful of food. "I wouldn't mind either."

Mattie still had a smile on his face as he chewed away and Se couldn't help his own smile that formed. Nevertheless, he ended up needing to calm himself down later in the male's bathroom. He wasn't sure what had happened, were he and Mattie engaged, or were they engaged to be engaged? Was there even a difference? He was losing it a bit until his phone bleeped to remind him that he had a class. He walked out of the bathroom determined not to think about it until later, and even more determined to not think about Brady when it came to considering marriage to someone that wasn't him.

The after lunch class was full of geriatrics with arthritis, and suffice to say, it was a challenging class when it came to keeping his patience. That said, the folk were entertaining as hell. Bob, who was about seventy something had a crush on Daisy, Ste's neighbour, who had signed up for the class to show her support for him. She did not have a crush on Bob and thought he was a lecherous old sleaze. Ste often found himself trying to supress his giggles when it came to Bob's antics to seduce the elderly woman.

Ste thought Daisy secretly liked the attention and, though he'd never say it, he was rooting for them. The other folks had a pool going on for how long it'd take them to get together. Ste had bet fifty that Daisy would agree to go the spring dance the clinic was throwing for the oldies. Bob seemed determined to prove that he only had eyes for her, and Daisy blushed every time he made her something in class. Last week he actually made her a functioning vase that didn't look like it was melting.

Ste was fully aware of the fact that Bob and Daisy's little dynamic was extremely similar to the one he had once had with Brady. The insistence that he was not going to fall for the older man, because Brady had a history of being something of a slut, but he'd get happy when Brady tried to prove that Ste wasn't another notch on his bedpost. Maybe that was why he wanted to see Daisy and Bob together, they could have something he and Brady barely had a chance to possess.

Daisy was scowling at Bob as the class finished up and poor Bob just looked so defeated. Ste had stopped him on his way out, and took him to a side to let him know that, even though Daisy would kill him for saying anything, Ste was going to tell Bob something really important. So important that Bob must use this information discreetly, never letting on that he knew anything.

"She talks about you, you know?" Ste smiled. "She comes over to my flat every Sunday and whinges about you. If you ask me, Bobby-man, it sounds like love."

Bob's whole face lit up as he brought Ste down for a hug, squeezing him as tight as he could.

"Bob!" The sudden sound had the old man jumping, but he relaxed when he saw that it was just Mattie. "Stop trying to steal my potential fiancé in the future."

Bob smiled and said he'd see Ste later before he headed for the door, stopping to fist bump Mattie on the way out. Ste laughed at the image, Mattie in his slacks and crisp white shirt, acting like a teen, and a man in his seventies dressed in corduroy pants that went all the way above his navel. Bob grinned at the doctor as he left, and Ste's heart might've melted a little bit.

"You could've given him a heart attack," Ste chastised.

"Nah, it keeps him young."

Ste rolled his eyes and started to clear up. He had an hour before his final class, so he could be kind of slow about it. "What are you doing in the cool kids' side of the building, anyway?"

Mattie just laughed and sat on one of the chairs behind a pottery wheel, then plunged his hands into a slab of clay. "I have half an hour on me, you wanna venture to the geek squad side of the building with me?"

Mattie was practically wagging his brows in an effort to be suggestive, but he sort of just looked really ridiculous. Ste nodded anyway, so Mattie stood up and washed his hand before they both left the room. They could've fooled around in his classroom, but that room only locked from the outside. A humiliating lesson had been taught and they never got hot and heavy in there anymore.

Ste had his hand in Mattie's when they got the psych floor, the elevator door opening just in time for Dr Franklin's voice to be heard as he told his patient that he'd see him next week. Ste didn't think much, he just smiled at Franklin as he and Mattie passed for their office, but the man who was leaving in a wheelchair aided by a nurse looked so miserable that Ste sort of stood stock still to watch him go. He didn't look up, his eyes on his lap, but he just looked like he was on the verge of giving up.

Mattie tugged at his arm to pull him in the office, but Ste couldn't look away from the descending figure.

"Ste, c'mon we don't have much time."

The patient Ste had been watching roll away suddenly tensed, prompting the nurse to stop and ask if he was okay. The man's spine straightened up as he snapped his head around to see Mattie and him standing side by side, their hands still enclosed. His blue eyes widened and his lips parted. He had a beard and raven black hair, but there was something distinctly familiar about him. He didn't say anything though, not even as his face paled and his breathing increased.

Ste gave the man a small smile, and raised his hand in what could've been a wave if he wasn't yanked into Mattie's office. The physiatrist grumbled something about time, then kissed Ste hard until he forgot all about the dark haired man, and lost himself in Mattie.

When Ste came out of his office, a little messed up, he kissed his boyfriend one more time before he headed for the lift, ignoring the receptionist's knowing look as he left. He got to the elevator before he turned back on his heels and headed back to the receptionist's desk.

"Gloria, have I mentioned you look exceptionally young today?" Ste smiled his most charming smile.

Gloria squinted her eyes as if she wasn't sure whether to take Ste's comment as a compliment or an insult, because she believed she looked exceptionally young every day. She chose to roll her eyes instead. "What do you want, Ste?"

Ste nodded his head towards Franklin's office, "Dr F's new patient, axe murderer? He's got the whole broody thing going on for it. Did he murder his family and now he's all suicidal?"

Gloria whacked him over the head with a folder and told him that she didn't look in the files. It was against policy and she was pretty sure it was illegal too. She did, however, raise her perfectly shaped eyebrow and gesture for him to lean in closer to her. Ste was a little sceptical of her motive, but the new patient was the most interesting thing that had happened here for ages now. Most of the patients' stories were pretty easy to guess, but the dark haired man was all mystery.

"I heard from Lacey, who heard from Kate, who overheard Dr F that he was a long term coma patient who's finding it hard to adjust."

Ste frowned and backed away, a little disappointed to be honest. "That's it? He was in a coma? Big whoop de, I've been in a coma twice, I win this pity battle."

Gloria shook her head as she returned to her work, which involved clunking away at the computer. Ste left her to it and travelled all the way down to his floor for his final class of the day. It went pretty uneventfully and Ste was glad for it, he didn't need a headache before he went home. This group was pretty mixed and half way through, the nurse from earlier that had been rolling the ex-coma patient away knocked on his door.

"Hey, Mr Hay?" She called, and Ste's top lip curled just a little. He hated being called that, and the people in his class who knew that sniggered at the way it made him a little mad.

"Just Ste," Ste told her, wiping his hand on a cloth before he made his way to her.

"I have a new guy, he's not assigned to your classes, but he hasn't got anything on now and I was wondering if he could partake."

Ste inwardly groaned and looked around, he didn't actually have room for anyone new, but he didn't want to turn anyone away either. "Can't you send him to get a massage on something?"

The nurse shook her head, "I don't think he likes being touched. Plus, he'll probably be assigned to you sooner or later, he's part of the physical therapy programme."

Ste sighed and nodded his head, inciting a smile from the nurse who left to go get the patient. However, she never actually came back. Ste had found it rather rude to keep him waiting and not turn up at all, he had even made everyone shuffle around to make room. When the class had ended and he had washed up, he was ready to give that nurse a piece of his mind.

He didn't really need to though, she turned up at his door again, still without her patient. "Mr H – I mean Ste, I'm so sorry. I went to get him, but he threw a fit when I told him about your class, and then he screamed at me to leave his room. I didn't want to disrupt your class again, so I waited until you were finished."

Ste was still kind of pissed, but he waved her away her apologies, not really in the mood for them. "What's his problem with my class?"

The nurse merely shrugged, "I like your class. That's why I wanted him to take part. But between you and me, he's a prick. He's always rude and he keeps telling me to fuck off."

Ste frowned at that. Normally, he'd have found it rather amusing, but as part of the staff at the clinic, he wasn't too impressed by rude patients. He'd been on the receiving end too many times, and more often than not, it kind of hurt. In his class with the teens he had a few homophobes, and he knew that some of them discussed how he only got the job because of Mattie, how sucking your shrink's dick got you a certificate of sanity.

"Is he violent?" Ste asked, concern seeping into his voice.

The nurse was really tiny and her pink uniform made her look like she was playing dress up. She kind of reminded him of a shorter Amy. Small nurse shook her head, but then adopted a thinking face. She went on to explain that he had whacked away her hand once, but she was pretty sure that was an accident. He didn't want her to touch him, even though all she had been doing was try to lean past him.

Ste dragged his hands down his face and told her that he'd talk to the guy. She told him that he was in Room 689, and his door would be open if he was alone. That meant the man was on suicide watch, so Ste had been right about something. Still, that didn't give him the right to act like an asshole to the staff whose job it was to take care of him. Just like the guy didn't want them there, they'd probably prefer to be elsewhere too.

Ste had to cross the large courtyard to the accommodation building and take the elevator six floors up. He took the time it took to go up to text Mattie and tell him to wait in the car for him while he ran an errand. It was one of the few days they finished together and that meant date night, Ste couldn't be too late for that, it'd start an unnecessary argument.

The dark haired man's room was almost at the complete far end of the floor. It was a good thing he still had his ID badge on, otherwise he'd have ended up looking a bit creepy wandering around with a determined look on his face. When he did find the room, the dark haired man was reading a book while he sat on his bed, his feet crossed at the ankle.

"Excuse me, Mister," Ste thundered in, pointing a finger in the man's direction and everything. "I don't know what you're deal is, and I'm sorry for whatever you've been through, but it does not give you a right to treat the people here like trash."

The dark haired man had adopted his earlier look, when he noticed that Ste was talking to him, a look that seemed like a ghost had just made its presence known. He didn't say anything to Ste, but he did frown a little in confusion, his flat hair falling over his brows. He looked ready to say something, but he appeared to have caught himself before he did and snapped his mouth shut.

Ste sighed and walked further into the room, not mentioning the complete bare nature of it or the slight smell of cinnamon that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. The teenage patients tended to decorate the place with posters and other items they got from home, most of the time they were of Swiss pop culture and Ste had no idea what they were. The elderly patients tended to have flowery bed covers, china patterns and pictures of family. Once he heard a rumour of someone smuggling a cat in. Ste could swear that the elderly were more badass than the young people here.

The people who were aged similar to that of the dark haired man tended to make the room look as normal as possible, anything to make it look like home. However, this guy had absolutely nothing in the room that looked like it belonged to him. Even the book he was reading had a plastic cover over it, which meant that it was from the clinic library. His walls were naked, he didn't have any pictures displayed on the shelves or bedside table, and his bedcover was a far too bright a white. He didn't even have his clothes tossed over the chair in the corner.

"Look," Ste said as he made his way over to the chair and dragged it over closer to the bed before he sat down on it. "I gotta go, my boyfriend is waiting for me downstairs, but that nurse of yours tried to do a nice thing for you, and she said you were a bit of a dick about it to be honest."

The man's frown deepened and he shrugged, then turned his attention back to his book. Ste huffed a frustrated breath and pinched the book from the man's grip and tossed it to the other side of the room. The dark haired man raised an eyebrow at him, then glanced over to where his wheelchair was. Ste hastily apologised and picked the book up for him again, realising that he'd have a difficult time retrieving it himself. He placed it on the bedside table, and when the man reached out for it, he slapped his hand on top to prevent the guy from using it as a tool to ignore him.

The man reached over into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a notepad and pen, quickly scribbling something on it. Ste didn't remark on the way the man's hands shook and he had to hold on to the pen extra hard so it wouldn't fall from his grasp. After he was done, the guy flipped it around so Ste could read it.

_Didn't you say your boyfriend is waiting?_

"Yeah, but he won't mind."

The man huffed and started to write again. _You should go._

"Not until you agree to apologise to your nurse, and why the hell aren't you speaking? You have no problem shouting at everyone else."

The man shrugged and wrote, _I don't feel like wasting my breath. And the nurse is an imbecile. _

"Charming," Ste mumbled and stood up, he picked up the book and placed it on the shelf at the far end of the room, just to wind the man up. He turned back to see the guy rolling his eyes at Ste, but he looked amused. Ste really didn't like him, even if he was a patient. They were taught to tolerate everyone, because everyone had a story to tell, and it was probably part of the reason they acted the way they did, but this guy really stomped on Ste's nerves.

He was about to leave when he remembered the look on the guy's face earlier. The one before he had noticed Ste, the one that was uncomfortably similar to the one Ste had whenever he remembered Brady. He sat back down on the chair, repeating in his head that everyone had a story, everyone had a story.

"I heard through Chinese whispers that you were in a coma for a long time before you came here." Ste said in a quiet voice, wary that this might be a volatile subject matter.

The man just shrugged and gave one stiff nod.

"How long for?"

The man observed Ste a little while, his blue eyes so vivid in contrast to his black hair. He watched Ste for a moment too long to not make Ste feel unnerved, but then he started writing on his pad again.

_Years._

Ste gasped, then pressed his lips together praying that it hadn't been audible. When Gloria had said long term, Ste had assumed it was a few months, but years. The guy had lost years of his life. Plural. He probably woke up and the people he loved were unrecognisable. The life he used to have led long gone. Maybe he had a girlfriend even, who had moved on. It must've felt like he travelled into the future, and the world had gone on while his mind stuck in the past. All the old memories still brand new to him. Things that weren't important to others, meant everything to him.

"Listen, Mister," Ste started. "It must be hard for you to integrate back into society, but you have to give it a chance. I can see the way your hand trembles when you try to write, and I can help you with that. You have to let people help."

The man didn't say anything. Big surprise, but after a while he nodded. And asked via pen and paper what exactly Ste thought he should do. So he told him that for a start he would have to stop biting everyone's head off. How he probably should talk to Dr Franklin about his issues because he clearly had plenty. Ste had wanted to backtrack when he said the issues part, but the man just smiled like he thought Ste was ridiculous. Ste had smiled back and informed him that if he didn't feel comfortable with Franklin then Dr Matthew Rideal was amazing.

The man's face had shut down at that and he shook his head slowly, looking at the window like he wanted to throw himself out of it. Ste told him that he could vouch for Mattie, that he lived with the man, so he practically knew him inside out. Tthat seemed to only make the dark haired man stonier, so Ste had told him that Franklin was really good as well. He didn't tell him that he knew because he had to see Franklin at least once a fortnight too.

Finally, Ste told him that he should come to his sculpting class, but the man flat out refused with a determined headshake. Ste wouldn't take no for an answer and said that if he didn't see the man next week at the class he should've turned up to that day, then he'd tell the librarian to revoke his book rights until he did turn up. It was unethical, and Ste wouldn't have really done it, but the man looked like a book person as opposed to TV person, so it seemed like the right threat to make.

The man shrugged again and looked Ste dead in the eyes as if to say that he dared Ste to do it. Ste looked right back and eventually the man sighed and nodded. Ste happily stood up, announcing that he was going to go now, seeing as he had done what he came for. Also, Mattie had rang twice. It was when he was standing up did he get the whiff of cinnamon again, and he had to close his eyes for a second to shake away the sensory memory. There was no one here that smelt that way, not anymore. When he opened his eyes again, the dark haired man looked at him with concern, but he just smiled and headed for the door.

He turned around and looked over to where the man was watching him leave before he completely left the room. He smiled at him, "I didn't get your name."

The man raised his eyebrows far too high on his head for it to be plausible, yet there it was. He opened his mouth to say something, but he changed his mind and opted to write on his notepad again. He was supressing a smile as he did, and Ste got the feeling he was missing out on an inside joke, a joke the man had with himself.

What he wrote was_, Whaaaa? _

Ste frowned, not quite understanding, "What's your name?

The man smiled and shook his head as if to say he didn't even know why he tried. Then he wrote again.

_Brendan_

Ste nodded and smiled politely, "Nice to meet you, Brendan. I'm Ste."


	13. Searching For You

**Chapter 13**

Yvonne came into his room before the alarm clock even went off, and it wasn't the first time Brendan found himself wondering if the nurse ever even slept. She pulled up his blinds with a cheery good morning and a smile that he probably would've found difficult to resist if he didn't want to murder her so bad. She had this wispy type of blonde hair that was always French plaited down her back, and if he was five years old, he probably would've tugged at it till she cried, just to make her as miserable as he was.

"Brendan, up-up, it's waffle day at the cafeteria today, and I know how much you can tuck away, so we have to get there fast if you want enough to satisfy your appetite."

For all her cheery faults, Brendan probably was lumbered with the only nurse who could put up with him. Back in Ireland, he had four home nurses that had quit on him before Cheryl sent him off to stay at a clinic. It was close to the house she and Nate had bought after they moved back to Ireland for him. He didn't last at that place, so they had suggested to Cheryl that she send him here. She had cried about it for weeks, not wanting to be separated from him, but eventually her need to see him as a fully functioning human being prioritised over the clinginess she had developed to Brendan in the last three years.

Yvonne listed off his itinerary for the day while Brendan just grunted at her and used his hands to pull his legs over the side of the bed. He could still walk if he really wanted to, except it caused searing pain, what with most of the bones in his legs having shattered when it smacked against the asphalt beneath the bridge. It healed ostentatiously while he lay in a coma for years, but having not used them, they hurt like a motherfucker when he did try, and he never lasted long, collapsing after a few minutes of standing up. According to Dr Franklin, the injury to his legs were mostly psychosomatic, seeing as the bones had healed completely. Brendan had told him to fuck off at that.

"Also," Yvonne grinned at him as she helped him into his wheelchair. "We're taking you to the barbers straight after breakfast today, your hair is disgusting."

Brendan couldn't help the snort that came out, "are you allowed to be rude to me?"

Yvonne made an incredulous face at him, "are you allowed to tell me that people like me should be sterilised to prevent anymore stupidity leeching across mankind like the disease it is."

Brendan pouted slightly and looked down at his lap while Yvonne made a sound that translated into _thought so _as she held on to the back of his chair and wheeled him out. They were in the lift, both of them silent when Brendan mumbled something at her. She must've heard him say something even if she didn't know what, but the nurse completely ignored him, so he cleared his throat and tried again.

"I'm sorry," Brendan said in a tone that sounded like he'd rather take another trip off a bridge.

"What?" Yvonne asked like the word she had heard coming from Brendan's mouth were something alien to her.

Brendan sighed and repeated himself for the third time, "I'm sorry – for the sterilising comment. That was uncalled for and unnecessarily cruel." He hesitated before continuing. "And for just generally being a bit of an arsehole."

Yvonne was soundless and it made Brendan uncomfortable. She still didn't say anything as the lift pinged and she rolled him out and into the cafeteria. She remained that way even as she got him his stack of waffles and then went off to get her own food. Brendan guessed that she didn't accept his apology, but he had tried. Steven had told him to stop snapping at the staff, and the staff he did that most to was Yvonne. She was always going to be the first person he'd apologise to, but he didn't think about what'd happen if she didn't forgive him.

Yvonne normally didn't sit with him, and that was due to Brendan telling her to take herself and her obnoxious smile elsewhere. He was a little surprised when she sat down in front of him with a much healthier breakfast on her tray. She gave him her too happy smile, and Brendan could see it for the dare it was, the taunt just asking him to tell her to get lost. Instead, he suppressed a smile, because hey, he still had a reputation to keep, and looked down at his food.

"I still don't like you," Brendan said through a mouthful of syrupy waffles just to gross her out.

Yvonne took a bite of her apple and leaned forward on her elbows to get closer to him, "I guess that's something we'll have to work on." Then she leaned back and flipped open the book she had with her that day. She always had a book. "I forgive you, by the way, and for all the other times you'll do it again."

Brendan didn't argue with her on that. He may be sorry for the way he treated her, but that didn't mean he'd miraculously stop. What they both knew, though, was that the anger he felt was never towards her, even if she ended up in the crossfire. He was angry at a lot of things, always had been since he was young, and ever since he woke up from his coma, he had found himself angrier than ever at life.

"I'm guessing Mr Hay talked to you last week like he said he would, then?" Yvonne commented, not looking him in the face.

Brendan put his knife and fork down, and leaned back in his chair to scrutinise his nurse with his eyes. "I'm guessing I was right in assuming it was you who hightailed it to him to grass me up."

"NO!" Yvonne exclaimed a bit too loud considering their surroundings. "I told him you didn't want to attend his class, and how you might have shouted at me when you told me that."

What he had done was curse at her until she looked scandalised at some of the things coming out of his mouth. She had tried to calm him down, but he was ready to mow her down with his chair, so she ended up squealing and running out of the room. He had expected her to drag Dr Franklin or one of the medical doctors in to sedate him, but she had surprised him by actually leaving him to calm down by himself. He probably didn't give the woman enough credit for her tolerance.

"Well he came into my room all guns blazing, then stole my book from me before placing it beyond my reach. You think I'm mean, that was pure evil. I was in the middle of a very important plot development."

Yvonne rolled her eyes and took a sip of her juice. "Mr Hay was, and rumour has it, still _is_ an outpatient here. He knows how to treat people who have been through a lot. If he was being mean, it just goes to show what a handful you are."

Brendan knew that Steven must've needed help after he got his sight back, but to have it said to him was different. Seeing the boy the prior week had been like an electric shock to his heart, it was the first time in a long while that he actually felt like he had survived his fall. When he realised that Steven had his hand in someone else's, he was back to wishing he hadn't lived at all. He was glad Steven was happy, but it hurt, too, that Steven had no idea who he was.

"What's his deal?" Brendan asked like he had no idea who this Mr Hay was.

Yvonne shrugged and pushed her tray away from her, having finished her breakfast, and folded her arms in front of her. "He doesn't speak much about his life before he moved to Switzerland from England. The only person who knows what his story is, is probably Dr Rideal. He was Mr Hay's shrink before they got together. Everyone knows about that, and for a while it was all anyone talked about. The doctor dating the crazy pants. From what I've seen of Mr Hay, he's one of the saner people here. I've heard of his epic freak outs, but I've never witnessed one."

"Freak outs? What do you mean?" Brendan had lost his appetite, so he pushed aside his food too, eliciting a suspicious expression from his nurse. If Brendan did one thing to her approval, it was eat, but he was feeling nauseated now.

"Nobody's really clear on that, it might be because he hasn't had one in ages or he doesn't do it in front of people," Yvonne wasn't exactly one to gossip, but the twinkle in her eyes illustrated that she was going to grab this chance to have an actual conversation with Brendan with both hands. It was a rare occurrence. "I think it was probably just really bad panic attacks. The rumours make him sound like a runaway from some asylum, but Dr Rideal wouldn't have trusted him enough to get him a job here if he was really a nut-job."

Brendan smiled bitterly and swallowed down the bile that had risen up the back of his throat. "Dr Rideal sounds like one of a kind."

Yvonne shrugged, "the patients love him, but I don't think I've ever spoken to him."

With that, she pushed herself away from the table and stood up to make her way to him. He didn't ask any more about Steven as they travelled to his room and Yvonne helped him get ready for the day. He huffed a lot in frustration at not being able to even dress himself properly, but he held his tongue to prevent snapping at her. She smirked the entire time.

The nurse signed him out and drove him to get his hair cut, and when he no longer had dark strands falling over his head, he felt a little more like his old self. However, Yvonne's suggestion to shave was a big no-no. He wasn't used to being clean shaven, and getting his moustache back would make Steven suspicious the next time he saw the lad. The beard gave him some form of anonymity.

It wasn't that he didn't want Steven to know who he was, but three years was a long time, and looking around, Steven had made a life for himself. One that no longer held a place for Brendan. He had Dr Rideal to hold him through the tough times, make him laugh when all he wanted to do was cry. He had someone else to sit with him as he watched the sun rise. Telling Steven who he was would just to prove to be a grenade in his perfectly remodelled, new life. He didn't need that, he didn't need Brendan, not anymore.

After the barber, they were back at the clinic and he had physical therapy for his legs. Yvonne never stuck around for that. She often went to do whatever it was that she did when she didn't have to baby him. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he screamed in agony and swore to end his therapist's life every time the man got him to do an activity that was supposed to help him walk properly again. She had stayed the first time and he could see from his peripheral vision, how she had itched to tuck him back into his chair and run as far away from the torturer as possible. She was always extra nice to him after, not realising that he found that more painful than the physical therapy.

After that it was his appointment with Dr Franklin, and he hated that more than he hated Yvonne's smile. He hadn't said anything to the man yet, but Franklin often asked question that prompted him to think about the things he'd rather not consider. Like no matter how much he told himself that Steven had every right to move on with his life, he felt a tiny bit bitter that the boy had done exactly that. That after everything that they had been through together, Steven left him while he lay in a coma and shacked up with someone else.

"Ah Brendan," Dr Franklin smiled as Yvonne wheeled him in, and there sat Dr Rideal, at the edge of Franklin's desk. "This is Dr Matthew Rideal, he was just telling me something, but if you'll give me a minute, I'll be with you."

Brendan nodded his head and looked down at his interlaced fingers on his lap as Dr Franklin walked out with Dr Rideal, who had smiled at him as he followed his peer. They were mumbling something in close proximity outside the door, but Brendan couldn't hear anything clearly. Dr Rideal had looked stressed out before he had disappeared, and Brendan suspected that whatever their conversation was about was more personal than it was professional.

Yvonne made sure he was okay, before she opened the door and left, but she didn't close it properly on her way out, which meant that when Dr Rideal said Steven's name, Brendan's ears picked up on it.

"I just, I'm fucking scared, James. Ste hasn't been this bad since he was first admitted to me."

"You know I can't discuss him with you, not like that. I'm sorry, I know you're worried –"

"Have you seen his hands, they –"

"Matthew," Dr Franklin's voice was stern, no bullshit. "Just for a second, stop being the boyfriend and be the doctor, he will have these episodes –"

"It's the doctor in me that knows these aren't just fucking run of the mill episodes, something happened to trigger it."

"And I will do everything in my power to help him, but I can't talk to you about it. You know this."

Dr Rideal sighed loudly, then there was the sound of angry footsteps followed by the slamming of a door. Brendan deduced that Steven's boyfriend had just stormed into his office next door, not at all happy with his friend and colleague's lack of cooperation.

Dr Franklin came back into his office, but whatever he had been feeling was left outside the door. The man had his usual smile back on his face and was all business. He sat on the chair opposite Brendan, rather than the one behind his desk, and Brendan assumed it was to create a rapport between them, instead of making the process seem as clinical as it actually was. He balanced one of his ankles on the knee of the other leg and turned his attention to Brendan.

"Brendan, how are you today?" The man asked with a faux interested face.

Brendan shrugged and stared at the wall behind Dr Franklin. It was easier to avoid the man's question if he wasn't looking at him. Franklin didn't seem deterred. He brought out Brendan's file and quickly skimmed through all the new notes that Yvonne had added to mark his progress, before he looked up and asked his next question.

"Your nurse has written that you've signed up for the sculpting classes. It's not mandatory for you yet, is sculpting something you enjoy?"

Brendan shrugged again and the man still didn't drop his damn smile. He did however put his leg down and shuffle himself closer to Brendan.

"Brendan, this is your third visit here, and unless you're telling me to piss off, you haven't said a word to me. You can get out of here anytime you want, but we both know your sister would hate that you leave here before you get better, so you're not going to do that. If you want to give your sister peace of mind, you have to start_ trying_ to get better, and I don't just mean with your physical therapy, you have to talk to me. I can't sign you off saying you're all good if you don't do that."

Brendan swallowed down and remained quiet. He didn't quite know where to start. Was he supposed to talk about his parents, all three of them? Was he supposed to talk about what his dad did to him, what Kyle did to him? What about the upcoming trial now that he was awake to actually provide a statement that was worthy of the man's arrest? Or was he supposed to talk about Steven, whom he couldn't help feeling betrayed by, who left him while he lay fighting for his life.

Dr Franklin finally dropped his smile and sighed as he leant back in his chair. He started to write notes on his notebook, and Brendan knew he was drawing conclusions from his silence. Probably thought that Brendan had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and refused to communicate in fear of appearing vulnerable to the hurt he had suffered. The only time he did say anything was in an aggressive manner to reassert his power considering how he was in a wheelchair and was highly dependent on others for his current survival. Yeah, Brendan could spout pop psychology too.

"What do you wanna know?" Brendan asked, because yeah, he did want to get out of here and on top of that he had promised Steven, albeit without words, that he'd try. The prompt was all it took for the doctor's head to snap up back to attention.

"Well, let's start off with a cliché, shall we?"

"Lemme guess, you wanna know about my childhood?"

"Brendan, I want to know how you managed to end up falling off a bridge that nearly ended your life, I think the beginning of said life is a good place to start."

Brendan rolled his eyes and dragged a hand down his face. "That's a long winded way of saying yes, you want me to talk about my childhood."

Dr Franklin raised his eyebrows and the smile on his face this time was something more genuine and a lot more knowing. He flipped his notebook closed and tossed it onto his desk before turning back to Brendan. "Is that where the beginning of your journey begins, how you ended up on that railway bridge."

Brendan may or may not have groaned in frustration at that. Fucking shrinks.

By the time Yvonne had him back in his room, he was glad to have been out of Franklin's office. The man made him feel like pulling his teeth out, but more than that, he unnerved Brendan in the way that he made it seem like he already knew things about him that he hadn't shared yet. Like he was just waiting for Brendan to get to the part he wanted him to talk about, like he was waiting for Brendan to mention his lover.

Brendan never did.

Yvonne was back to get him for his sculpting class and he really wished he hadn't agreed to go to these after all. He was a little angry, actually a lot angry, even his nurse had dropped her smile, knowing that it grated on his last nerve. She didn't speak to him all the way to the class and she left him in the hallway when she entered Steven's room and quickly spoke to him about something. When she was done, she had a small smile on her face, and Brendan just knew that she was so eager for him to go to that class because she had a crush on the lad. This just gave her an excuse to see him when she dropped Brendan off.

She wheeled him to a large area that was cleared out for his chair behind a slab of clay, and then left him to it, waving goodbye to him and Steven, suddenly cheerful again. Brendan didn't look up from his lap as Steven asked everyone to settle down. It was the last class of the day and the lad sounded exhausted, his voice breathy like he didn't have it in him to talk without sighing loudly. He didn't even sound frustrated, he was too tired to get worked up.

Brendan was concentrating on keeping his hands still while it hovered over his legs, it was a good distraction form the younger man, whose voice had disappeared, only to reappear in close proximity to him.

"It'll get better, you know," came Steven's voice from right in front. Brendan snapped his head up and found himself having to suppress a gasp. Steven looked like shit. He gave Brendan a tired smile. "Your hands, I mean. It'll stop shaking soon if you do your exercises." When Brendan didn't say anything, he rolled his eyes and smiled wider. "Still not speaking to me, huh?"

And with that he turned and walked back to the front of the class to start the lesson. Brendan wouldn't have been able to say anything, then, had he wanted. Steven had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept properly since the last time Brendan had seen him. His usually golden skin was a paler colour, forcing the small blood vessels under his skin to practically glow through. He moved in a way that seemed like everything ached, but what really caught Brendan's attention was to bandages wrapped around his hands, both of them.

"… I can't demonstrate today," Steven's voice finally broke through Brendan's trance as he held both his hands up. "You can probably tell why."

One of the women in the class lifted up her hand and waited till Steven nodded at her before she spoke. "What happened?"

Steven laughed, it was a throaty, sand papery sound the made Brendan feel like it probably hurt to do that. The lad just shrugged one shoulder and said, "I fell. In the middle of the road. Scraped my hands when I tried to stop myself." He smiled at his class, but Brendan could tell no one quite believed the gesture. "You guys know me, I'm clumsy as hell. I tripped over my own foot."

The class was sombre. Everybody listened to their instructions and were very careful not to do anything that would put Steven out. Whether they liked their teacher or not, making Steven's life difficult right then would've been like kicking a puppy that had just been run over. Nobody wanted to be that monster. Steven for his part tried to make everything seem as normal as possible, overcompensating by giving everyone too many compliments.

Half way through the class, there was a knock at the door, and Dr Rideal popped his head in before Ste could even ask who it was. Brendan's heart tore a little when he saw the relieved look on Steven's face, like the man's presence acted like Diazepam; relaxed and calmed him. He used to look at Brendan like that. Like Brendan could make him fly with how light he felt with him. The world's burden removed from his shoulders just by Brendan standing close.

Steven asked everyone to give him a minute while he spoke to _Mattie_. Why kind of grown arse man had the name Mattie. Well, Dr Franklin called him Matthew if he wasn't referring to him as Dr Rideal, so Brendan assumed that it was something that Steven just called him. That made him hurt more than a thirty something year old man calling himself Mattie made him angry.

He heard the shrink ask Steven how he was feeling before the door closed behind the lad and muffled their voices out. He was only gone for about two minutes, but when Steven came back, his eyes looked red rimmed and like he was ready to give up for the day. Crawl in bed until one day blurred into the next and he no longer knew what the date was anymore.

The classed finished a little early and Steven personally helped him clear up, even brought him a bowl of warm water, so he could wash his hands without trying to stand up in an attempt to reach the sink. Throughout it all, Steven didn't say a word to him, and Brendan resisted the urge to pull the boy onto his lap and cradle him till he fell asleep and forgot about everything that was stressing him out. Brendan would let go of all his own resentment towards Steven if he could see the boy look like his old self again.

Nobody had let Yvonne know that the class was over a little earlier than expected, so Brendan ended up being the only one left behind with the lad. Steven was sat behind his desk, his head buried in his arms against the desk as he waited with Brendan for Yvonne to come and get him. Brendan rolled himself over to where the desk was, it hurt his hands a little, a lot. He wasn't used to using so much pressure, but he had to make sure Steven was okay.

When he was in front of the desk, he cleared his throat to get the boy's attention. Steven didn't really lift his whole head up, just enough that he could peep over his arms to look at Brendan with raised eyebrows. Brendan didn't say anything for a moment, his own eyes searching for something to write on. When he didn't find anything, Steven sighed and pulled open a side drawer to pull out an A4 sized whiteboard and a dry marker. He passed them over to Brendan, looking amused for the first time that day.

Brendan reached over and grabbed them, his hands trembling, his handwriting sloppy as he wrote, _R U OK?_

Steven nodded and smiled, "yeah, superb."

Brendan wiped away the words he had written and replaced them with_, don't BS me. U look like shit. _

The lad rolled his eyes and sat up straight in his seat. "I just haven't been sleeping very well this past week." He pointed at himself with a long finger as if he needed to clarify who he was talking about. "Sleepwalker."

That… That was not something Steven used to do. Brendan had slept with him many nights. Practically moved in with him prior to the incident with Kyle. Brendan frowned and wrote again on the whiteboard. _Y?_

"Why am I sleepwalker? I don't know, man." It seemed like that was all Steven was willing to share, but then he sighed and leaned his elbows on the desk, his head in his palms and his hair clutched into tight fists. "I woke up in the middle of the road again after I fell and grazed my hand all bloody. That hasn't happened to me in a long time. In fact, I don't even sleepwalk much anymore, but something set it off again. I think my subconscious is looking for something it'll never find."

Brendan wanted to reach over and touch him so bad, feel the warmth of the boy's life under his fingertips. Instead, he swallowed down the lump in his throat and started to write again, his hands shaking worse than ever.

_What R U looking for?_

Steven smiled a wistful, longing smile, "someone who meant a lot to me. But he died a while back while trying to save my life and before I could tell him how I feel. I think that's why I look for him, to tell him now."

Brendan opened his mouth to say something, he didn't know what, but anything. Steven looked so small, so childlike and so goddamned vulnerable. Brendan just wanted to let him know that he could stop searching, that Brendan was here right in front of him. Before he could, though, Yvonne came in with a cheery hello that pierced right through the bubble around them, and shattered the quiet with the loud sound of reality.

He passed Steven the whiteboard back, but the younger man just waved it away, told him to keep it and something about how he had a feeling Brendan would need it again. Brendan tucked it under his arm in something of a daze as Yvonne took him away, back to his room. It was okay, though, Steven's subconscious may be clinging to Brendan, but Steven himself had let go. He couldn't think about what the revelation meant, not now, not when he had a sister to call and berate.

Steven hadn't left him while he lay fighting for his life. All the resentment he felt towards Steven was a lie, because Cheryl didn't tell him. She didn't tell Steven that there was a battle to fight at all.


	14. Silent Voices

**Chapter 14**

"Nathan, is my sister there?"

Brendan would've gritted his teeth as he spoke if he had the emotional capacity to do so. He didn't, though, he was exhausted. He was exhausted from loving Steven but feeling betrayed by him, feeling betrayed by him, but trying to be happy for him, trying to be happy for him, but loving him too much to want him with anyone else. It was back to square one after that. And now, now he found out that Steven had thought he was dead for the past three years, and that started a whole tornado of other feelings. He was just so damn tired now.

"Uh oh, you're using my whole name. You only do that nowadays when you're angry." Nathan had that irritating cheery voice of his on, and that only made Brendan wish he had the strength to tell his brother in law to put his sister on the phone, but with a few colourful words thrown in there.

"I'm not in the mood, Nathan. My nurse is hovering over my shoulder to make sure I'm not planning my getaway, I need help getting dressed and to tie my shoes every day, and I don't think I've had a proper shower by myself in the entire time since I woke up. So please, put. Cheryl. On. The phone."

"I – Brendan, she's feeding Chris. Is everything okay over there?" Nathan sounded worried, but he still hadn't handed the phone over.

Brendan sighed, closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head. He didn't have his own phone, hadn't had one since the one that smashed when he was thrown off a bridge, and this place didn't allow mobile phones to be used on weekdays. He would've ended up using the communal, observed one, anyway, but that meant that Yvonne was about to hear every word that came out of his mouth now, so he had to make sure he didn't bite his brother in law's head off while in company.

"How long is she going to be?" Brendan asked, because he was determined to get his sister on the phone.

"Hang on a second, lemme see if Chris will let me feed him. You know how he gets when I try."

Brendan did know how little Christopher got. The toddler was the typical spoilt child, and surprisingly it had nothing to do with the wealthy father. It was Cheryl, who overindulged the child. For nearly all of Christopher's life, Brendan had been in a state of limbo, not dead, but not quite alive. She had spent that whole time making sure Christopher knew how much Cheryl loved him, just in case she lost her son like she did her parents and whatever the hell state Brendan was in. So now, Christopher clung to his mother like a safety blanket, and threw the biggest strop known to mankind if things didn't go his way.

There was a rummaging sound in the background until the loud voice of his sister filled his ear. "Bren, is everything okay, are you okay? Do you want me to come over?"

Brendan rolled his eyes and dragged a hand down his face. She was just looking for an excuse to fly over and mollycoddle him. Instead, he exhaled loudly and got to the point. "Chez, does the name Steven Hay mean anything to you?"

"I – uh – yeah, you know it does."

Brendan shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest. "Chez, you didn't tell him. You didn't tell him I was alive."

There was a confused sound coming from Yvonne and then a gasp of realisation that Brendan already knew who her beloved Ste – the sculpt teacher – was.

"Bren, I didn't know he thought you were dead."

"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T TELL HIM OTHERWISE!" All that emotion that he was drained of earlier was coming back in waves of rage. He wasn't even angry with Cheryl, not really. Just with life.

"Brendan," Yvonne and Cheryl simultaneously called his name, except where Yvonne sounded like she was trying to placate him, Cheryl sounded like Brendan had sucker punched her. The name on his sister's lips was all breathy and broken and sounded so damn sorry.

"Didn't you think, huh? Why he never came to see me? After everything, Chez, didn't you think?"

"NO!" Cheryl cried. It was loud enough that Brendan actually was taken aback. He had been a pain in the arse the last few months, but she never once raised her voice at him. Always presented herself as the epitome of patience. "I went to Hollyoaks, Bren. When I sold your club and then your flat, I went, but he wasn't there. They told me he didn't work at the restaurant, anymore. And when I tracked his address down, he didn't live there anymore.

"Any do you know what my first thought could've been, Bren? I could've thought that the guy you nearly killed yourself for took your money and disappeared from the face of the earth with it. But I didn't think that, all I could think about then was you. I tried to find him, but when it came down to it, I didn't want to waste my energy doing that when all I wanted was to be by your side, so you wouldn't be alone. So _I_ wouldn't be alone. I have Nate, I have Chris, but I still needed my brother."

Brendan breathed in a haggard breath and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't her fault and he was aware of that, but he didn't know who else to blame. He couldn't blame her, though, not for anything. She had flown back over to England at the drop of a hat for Brendan, left her baby, who was only a few months old behind. And when they told her that he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, if he woke up at all, she transferred Brendan to Ireland and dragged her entire family there too, so she could be with him.

Cheryl had always been the baby of the family, but when it really came down to it, she was a woman of strength, one of the strongest he knew. She fought to catch the people who did this to him, and even though they couldn't do much without his statement, she never gave up trying to get him justice. When they wanted to switch off his life support machine, she fought for him, hauled the doctors to court to keep him alive. She could've lobbed him in a care home for comatose patients, but she took him home and kept him there, even when he had seizures and foamed at the mouth, she stayed with him through it all.

"I'm sorry," Brendan whispered so low, he wasn't even sure if he had said it.

Cheryl was silent on the other end, but after a few seconds of sniffling, he voice cracked through. "Did you see him again?"

Brendan wiped his face down – he hadn't even been aware he had been crying – and laughed mirthlessly. "He works at the clinic. He's my sculpt teacher, can you believe that?"

"He can see?"

Brendan smiled a little to himself, "yeah. Yeah, he can see."

And that made it all worth it. Steven could see the faces of his friends. The places he loved, the sculptures he created, the smile he put on people's faces. Steven could see.

"I'm sorry, Brendan. I should've tried harder. Or at least tried again when we settled into a routine. I didn't think –"

"It's not your fault, Chez. It's no one's. It's just the way things worked out."

"But you told him now, right?" Cheryl sounded hopeful, and Brendan hated hearing that, because he wished there was something to hope for.

"No, he – err – he's dating someone. I haven't spoken to him."

"What? I thought he tea-"

Brendan didn't want to go into why he wasn't telling Steven who he was. Cheryl loved Brendan, and so she always wanted the best for him, for him to be happy. Even if that meant hurting other people in the process. Steven was happy with Matthew, and the guy seemed decent enough. He had been genuinely worried about Steven when he spoke to Dr Franklin, and if he had been Steven's shrink he knew all about Brendan, and accepted that Steven had a past.

"I gotta go, Chez. Give Christopher a kiss from his favourite uncle. I love you." He didn't give her a chance to keep him on the line when he put the phone down as quickly as he could, but that resulted in him slamming the cordless down with a large bang.

He cradled his face in his palms, let them shroud his eyes into darkness, but that didn't stop him from feeling Yvonne's gaze on him. He understood what Steven had meant when he used to say that he could tell Brendan was staring even if he couldn't see him do it. Sometimes the intangible made its presence known just by the sheer power of it, sending waves across the room. Yvonne's stare was going to knock him from his chair if she didn't look away soon.

"You know Mr Hay?" She asked softly when Brendan made no move to look up at her.

"Yes." Brendan mumbled into his palms.

"Before you came here?"

"Yes."

"You were, I mean still _are_ in love with Mr Hay?"

"Yes."

"You –"

"Yvonne." Brendan snapped his head up and turned to glare at her, hoping that it'd possessed the command to seal her mouth shut.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed down whatever other questions she had lined up. He simply shook her head at her to signify that he wasn't in the mood to talk about it, and that was all it took to get her to stand up from where she had been sitting and wheel him back to his room. They didn't speak on the way there, but he knew that Yvonne was bursting to let him know what she was thinking.

Once she had settled him into his bed and started fussing more than usual, no doubt feeling a new sense of sympathy for him, she finally fell into the chair in the corner of his room and just stared at him. Brendan exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes before he gave her the permission to say what was on her mind.

"You're gonna tell him, right, who you are? If he knows you didn't die when you had your _accident, _then he won't be with Dr Rideal anymore."

Brendan shuffled down on his bed and turned his back to her. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Yvonne stayed sitting there for a few more quiet moments, but eventually she stood up and left the room, making sure to leave the door open. She had started to close it the past couple of days, trusting him not to strangle himself with his bed sheets, but it looked like he was back on suicide watch.

She didn't bring it up again. Not when she dropped him off at his increased appointments with Dr Franklin. Not when she continued to sit with him for his breakfast, but insisted that he try to make friends during other meal times. She didn't even bring it up the next week when she dropped him off to Steven's class with an expression that said she had plenty to say.

When she positioned him where he was supposed to be in the room, her smile towards Steven was larger than ever, but it had lost its schoolgirl crush appearance to it. Now it just made it obvious that she knew something about him that he didn't know himself. Brendan made a mental note to go back to being unbearably horrible to the nurse, seeing as even if she could control her mouth, she couldn't control those eyebrows of her that drew down in sadness when she looked at Brendan, and even Steven.

The injury to Steven's hands were better, not healed completely, but he no longer had the bandages wrapped around it. He looked a little better appearance wise, however, he still had rings around his eyes and looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. Brendan relaxed a bit when he saw a return of colour on Steven's cheek and told himself that the boy was sleeping better now, even if not well, he'd get there.

Except, when Brendan had accidentally dumped his entire slab of clay onto the ground, and Steven came to help him, Brendan's insides froze a little at the sight of the boy's wrists. Steven had laughed and joked while he tidied Brendan's mess, but he ignored it and barely realised when he grabbed Steven's wrist and stared at the marks there with a horrified look on his face.

Steven's laugh caught in his throat and he tugged his wrists away from Brendan, pulling the sleeves of his top down and messing it up at the same time. He put the clay back on the desk in front of Brendan and smiled at him in an attempt to mollify him, but he could probably tell it wasn't really working. The boy quickly glanced around the room to make sure everyone was okay and minding their own business before he crouched down in front of Brendan again, so he wasn't hovering over him.

"I nearly got hit by a car on the weekend," Steven whispered, loud enough for only Brendan to hear. "Mattie asked me to take some time off work, until I we could come up with a solution. I didn't want that, so I told him to tie one end of a long ribbon of material to my wrist and the other end to his, that way I couldn't leave the flat without waking him." Steven lifted him his arm and revealed the burns around his wrist. "I'm a little eager to get away it seems, tug at it too hard."

Brendan looked at the marks and before he was aware of what he was doing, he dragged his clay covered hands down his face, then groaned when he realised what he had done. It made Steven laugh, though. He stood up, shaking his head as he rounded Brendan's chair and pushed him over to the cleaning up area.

Brendan wanted to tell him that the solution to his problems was probably, literally under his nose. However, that could cause a whole whirlwind of other problems, and Steven got over the psychological issues once, he could do it again.

He just had to.

Brendan was morose when Yvonne came back to get him, but he did smile when she retrieved a lollipop from her pocket and passed it over to him. She was normally against his sweet tooth, but he guessed he could milk his personal issues for everything it was worth. He was just a tad disappointed it wasn't a mint chocolate chip ice cream.

They were just outside his room when Yvonne finally spoke to him, a grin evident on her lips. "There's a gift for you."

Brendan frowned a little, not really knowing what to expect. He got a lot of care packages from Cheryl, but he wouldn't exactly classify them as gifts. More often than not, all the stuff she gave ended up in the back of his closet. If it was food, he'd probably eat that, but the clothes and the pictures of home, he didn't want so much. He loved his sister and Christopher, and he liked Nate to some extent, but looking at pictures of them made him want to go home.

When he finally entered his room, there sitting on his bed was all legs and five inch heels. It wasn't cold in Switzerland, summer was in full swing, but he didn't think that much skin was really necessary. That said, the woman sat on his bed was perhaps one of the most beautiful he had said eyes on, her face haloed by gleaming brunette hair, and a dimpled, saccharine smile that could smash Yvonne's in a fight.

"Where's my gift?" Brendan asked, supressing the grin that was threatening to rip across his face.

"I am your gift, you son of a bitch." Anne pouted as she stood up and clip clopped her way to Brendan. Yvonne helped Brendan up, so that he could give his best friend a full body hug, pain be damned. "Scratch that, I'm a gift to mankind."

"I know," Brendan said as he kissed her temple before she helped him sit back in his chair. "What are you doing here?"

Anne's smile faltered as she made her way back to the bed and sat down, "Cheryl called. Told me what happened." She flicked her eyes to Yvonne, who was doing something or the other at the other end of the room. "You know, with you know who."

Brendan sighed. He knew that she hadn't flown all the way from the US. She had moved to London when she had her son Phoenix with Riley Costello, footballer and no good enough for her. But no matter where she had flown from, it was still a mission and a half, and Brendan wished his sister had kept her mouth shut. He was happy that Anne was here, he simply wished she wasn't here because they were worried for Brendan.

"Why haven't you told him yet, Bren?"

Brendan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Yvonne whipped around and exclaimed, "oh my god. Thank you! I have been dying, keeping my mouth shut."

Anne smiled at the nurse like she wasn't sure if she should pinch her cheeks in fondness or tackle her to the ground because she had to prove to be the alpha woman in the room. She opted for fondness, unfortunately. "Listen to your nurse. She seems like a practical woman."

"I'm sensing some sexual tension in here." Brendan joked, hoping to deflect the conversation.

"I'm a married woman with a child." Anne rolled her eyes, but she winked at Yvonne, anyway.

"I was nearly married. I nearly had a kid. Look at me now. I believe you called me Super Gay."

Anne guffawed so hard she fell back on the bed and Yvonne just made a sound of surprise and dropped something to the ground. He smirked at her and told her that there was a lot she didn't know about him and Anne just nodded in affirmation, promising to tell her all about Brendan's past exploits. Brendan really didn't want this friendship, he'd never get rid of Yvonne then.

Brendan reminded Anne that maybe she shouldn't be here since she had a child, but apparently she was all his for the week and Phoenix was having bonding time with Daddy dearest back in the UK. Just when he had thought that maybe they could talk about her life, she brought Steven up again, demanding to know why he hadn't told the love of his life that, hey, he wasn't six feet under, he was barely six feet away.

Brendan sighed, "He's with someone else. He's _been_ with someone else for over a year now. I knew Steven for all of, what, seven months, and we dated for only a small fraction of that. What we had is nothing compared to what he has with Matthew."

"You're right, what you had with him is nothing like what he has with this new guy." Anne crawled off the bed and kneeled in front of Brendan, so she was at eye level with him, and took his hand in hers. "But you're wrong if you think it's nothing. You had so much more. You developed so much more in a shorter time. For fuck's sake, Bren, you gave him his sight back, you saved his life."

Behind him, Yvonne whimpered a bit. She still didn't know the details about his relationship with Steven, so every little discovery had her rooting for them even more. Brendan ignored it and kept his attention on his friend.

"And what? I saved his life and now that entitles me to a relationship with him? He now has to spend the rest of his life with me because I'm the reason he has it? That's bullshit, and you know it, Anne."

"What's bullshit is you thinking that's what I meant." Anne snapped.

Brendan shook his head and looked out the window behind his best friend's head. "I know what it's like to love him and then lose him. I don't want to put anyone else through that."

Brendan only realised he was crying when he tasted salt in his mouth. Anne gently sat on his lap, her legs to one side and pulled him in for a hug, filling up his nose with the smell of her perfume and familiarity. He had missed her so much, and he didn't realise how much he needed to talk to her until then. She had come to visit him since he woke up, but his resolve hadn't broken until now.

"I'm glad you're here." Brendan said once she pulled away.

She smiled at him, but just when he thought she was going to tell him to stop being so soppy, her eyes flicked over to where the door was and her features froze in place. Brendan still had his hands placed on her waist as he turned to look in the direction she had been looking, only to see Steven there, clutching on to Brendan's black zip up hoodie that he had taken off in sculpting class.

Anne jumped up from where she was sitting on his lap while the boy's eyes flicked between the two. He was a little pale, paler than how he had been earlier when he was teaching, and in actuality, he looked like he was going to pass out a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as the entire room watched to see what he would say.

Finally, the boy shook his head and forced a smile onto his face. "Sorry, I thought I heard someone I used to know." Steven placed the hoodie on the foot of the bed and stepped back, looking uncomfortable. "You – erm – you left that." He turned to look at Anne and smiled widely, it still didn't reach his eyes. "You must be Brendan's girlfriend, I'm Ste, I work here."

Anne looked at him with wide eyes, like she wanted to pull him in and hug him till he couldn't breathe from the sheer force of it. She smiled back, but bit onto her bottom lips, obviously trying to stop herself from word vomiting. Brendan looked at her imploringly to not say anything that would make his identity obvious, and she must have got the message.

She swung at her perfectly manicured hand out and introduced herself. "Mitzeee, with three E's."

Steven frowned a little and looked around the room to see if she was being serious. Yvonne just shrugged and Brendan smiled like _what can you do?_ Mitzeee was her stage name and she hadn't used it in years, she was actually quite ashamed of it, but it seemed like pseudonyms were necessary.

"You parents called you Mitzeee?" Steven reached out and took Anne's hand, shaking it with a raised, sceptical eyebrow. "With three Es?"

"They had high hopes for me," Anne laughed, dropping Steven's hand. "Who did you think you heard?"

Fucking Anne. Just when he thought she was going to go along with his act of ignorance, she had to go and bring that up. Steven gave her a lopsided smile, but his gaze slid to Brendan, the blue of his eyes, fire bright. He watched Brendan for a few silent seconds, but it felt like a lifetime with Brendan's heart beating so hard he was sure it echoed throughout the entire floor.

"Just someone I used to know." Steven answered, turning his eyes back to Anne. "But I haven't been sleeping much and they've been on my mind, I'm probably just hearing things."

Both the women in the room were twitching like they wanted to burst through their skins and yell from the top of their lungs that Steven wasn't hearing anything, that the someone on his mind, the someone he was looking for was there. Right there, right now. Yvonne turned away from the scene, clearly figuring it was the only way to resist saying anything, but Anne stepped forward and stood only a few feet from Steven.

"You have really beautiful eyes." She said, a small smile on her lips.

Wait, what?

"What?" Steven laughed a little, confusion clear in the way he frowned and looked at Brendan for an explanation.

Brendan shook his head at the boy, illustrating that an explanation for Anne's behaviour was not worth their time. Steven still had a smile on his face when he looked back to Anne and this time it was genuine. He thanked her for the compliment, still a little incredulous about her randomness, but it did lift up the tension in the room. He told Brendan that he'd see him next week, but before he was gone completely, he looked at Brendan one more time and Brendan didn't miss the frown on his face.

When he was gone, Yvonne let out a breath. "He heard you."

"I know," Brendan mumbled, then turned to glare at Anne. "What was that about?"

Anne gave him a sheepish smile. "I always wanted to meet him and tell him that."

Brendan scrunched up his face, "you're a weirdo."

"You're a weirdo."

"Children!" Yvonne called, dragging their attention back to her. She was standing close to them now with her hands on her hips. "He suspects you, you know."

"I know," Brendan said, because really there was nothing else to say.

"If you do want him to stay in the dark, what are you going to do?" Yvonne asked, as she helped him off his chair and onto his bed.

Brendan was sitting on it with his back to the headboard and Anne by his side, her head on his shoulder. "Yvonne, have you met my girlfriend. Mitzeee. She's a stripper."

Yvonne frowned in obvious disappointment, and Anne just pinched him really hard on the arm.


	15. Do You Want To Know A Secret?

**Chapter 15 **

Mattie crawled up Ste's body and settled in between his legs with a smug smile on his face, causing Ste to snort and roll his eyes. The doctor always appeared proud of himself every time he had Ste coming and melting into a puddle of liquidised flesh and bones. Ste lifted his head just enough to kiss the smile on the other man's face, then gently pushed at his chest until he fell to Ste's side.

They hadn't had sex in a couple of weeks, not since his sleepwalking started to get really bad again. Ste was either to exhausted when he was awake, or Mattie was too worried about Ste's physical health to engage in the activity. So it came as a surprise for both of them when Ste kissed Mattie as soon as they stepped foot into their flat, a hot, open and vigorous kiss. Mattie was stunned by the fact that Ste was invigorated enough to initiate anything, and Ste stunned by the fact that Mattie had spun him until his back hit the front door and tore at his jacket, rather than tell him that he needed to rest.

Ste didn't really know where the need to have Mattie inside him came from, but all that he was aware of was that he felt a little like he was going crazy. He was smelling phantom cinnamon in certain areas of the clinic, and just before he had come home, when he was in the patients' accommodation building, he could've sworn he heard Brady's voice. Except, it couldn't have been. Brady was dead. The club he owned was someone else's and the house he lived in was another's home. Brady was gone, and apparently he took Ste's sanity with him.

He needed to feel something that was real. And Mattie was it. He was here and solid and warm and Ste did love him. That was real.

Ste curved himself into his boyfriend's side just as a phone went off somewhere in the passage. It wasn't Ste's. His phone had died at work, and well, he wasn't exactly thinking about putting it on charge when he came home. That only left Mattie, who groaned at the sound and buried his face into Ste's neck. The phone rang out, only to start again, until Ste laughed a little at his boyfriend's stubbornness in acting like the sound wasn't there, and got up to answer it.

He found the devise in Mattie's jacket pocket that was lying on the floor in front of the door. He dug the thing out and answered it without looking at the caller ID. "Hello, Dr Rideal's phone."

"Ste, it's James Franklin, is Matthew there?"

"He is currently indisposed," Ste said, thinking about the naked doctor, pliant and worn out on their bed. "But I can take a message."

Dr Franklin sighed on the other end, "I'd really rather talk to him."

Ste told the man he'd see what he could so and walked back into his bedroom. Mattie was lying on his front, the bed sheet covering him only from the hips down, leaving his entire back exposed. He had his head to a side and appeared to be asleep. Ste called bullshit and approached the bed and pulled the pillow from under the man's head, startling him until he flailed and fell to the ground.

Ste just smiled sweetly and held the phone out to him. "Dr Franklin insists on talking to you."

Mattie just grumbled something and took the phone from Ste as he hunted down a pair of boxers to wear while he spoke to his colleague. Ste was still naked as he climbed back into bed and switched the TV on. He put the volume down low until only a soft murmur escaped the box, and turned his attention to the conversation coming from somewhere else in the house. He couldn't hear much of anything, and was prompt to put the volume on the TV back up when Mattie came back into the room and climbed back into bed.

"What did he want?" Ste asked with feigned nonchalance. He was always jittery inside whenever Franklin called Mattie, because he couldn't help but think they were speaking about him, even though it was against policy to do so.

"Hmm?" Mattie hummed, already too interested in the film that was playing on the TV. "Oh, we had discussed the transfer of one of his patients to me after the one month mark, but James has decided he's going to keep him on."

Ste bit his lips and shuffled closer to his boyfriend in the hopes that he'd be too content to realise that Ste was about to get nosy. "Is it Brendan?"

Mattie nodded as he scratched the side of his face, "yeah, but the man is starting to talk now. Slowly but surly, so he thinks it'd be a bad idea to switch doctors. He only thought I should take him because he reckoned the man would find it easier to talk to someone who also liked sleeping with men."

Ste didn't mention the fact that he was the first and only guy Mattie had slept with, so it was really man than men. That was beside the point, though because what Mattie had just said didn't make sense. Ste frowned and said, "Brendan isn't gay."

"Pretty sure he is. It's in his notes. He didn't say anything about it, but his sister provided most background detail."

With that, Mattie finally caught on to the fact that he was divulging too much information about a patient. Even though Mattie wasn't Brendan's direct doctor, he was still supposed to keep all the information he had on all the patients in the hospital confidential. When he turned to look at Ste after he realised what he had been doing, he didn't look scared that Ste was going to say anything that would get him in trouble, he trusted Ste enough to know that Ste wouldn't do that. However, he did feel it was immoral, so instead he looked guilty. Ste smiled at him, apologised and kissed him until the lines on his forehead eased.

That didn't stop Ste thinking though. If Brendan was gay, then why had neither he nor Mitzeee denied anything when Ste called the woman Brendan's girlfriend? Everything about the dark haired man made Ste feel uneasy, that air about him that was so familiar despite Ste not knowing anyone by the man's name. Then there was the fact that Ste was sure he heard Brady's voice just outside Brendan's room, in addition to the fact that the sleepwalking started to get bad again when Ste met Brendan. This guy was fucking with him and he had no idea how or why.

Mattie fell asleep first, so it was up to Ste to tie the ribbon of material around both their wrists. Mattie still hated doing this to him, and Ste sometimes suspected that Mattie fell asleep first to avoid it. He said it made him feel like he was treating the younger man like an unruly dog on a leash. He wanted to help Ste stop sleepwalking, not tie him down hope that the scars he got from tugging at the ribbon in his sleep weren't too bad.

They both go to work together, as well as coming home, regardless of the fact that Ste didn't always have classes in the morning. He didn't have one that morning, so when they arrived at work, he headed to the cafeteria rather than the classrooms. However, the staff cafeteria only sold coffee in the mornings, whereas the patient one served actual breakfast. Ste never ventured there before, normally eating breakfast at home, but Mattie had decided to let him sleep that morning. That resulted in Ste skipping Breakfast all together, even though Mattie told him to just go to work later.

Ste walked into the patients' building and went to the floor with the cafeteria, the smell leading the way. He filled up his plate and turned towards the seating area to look for a vacant table, when the little group of three caught his eyes. Brendan, Yvonne and Mitzeee sat right at the back – probably the dark haired man's doing – all three of them lost in conversation. Ste just sort of stared at them, watched the way Brendan obviously found something Mitzeee had said amusing, but held his smile in, which resulted in his mouth twitching and his eyes squinting. Mitzeee and Yvonne had no qualms about throwing their head back and laughing out loud.

Ste hadn't even realised that he headed towards their table until he was there and asking, "mind if I join?"

Brendan's eyes widened when he spotted Ste. The only seat available on the table of four was the one next to Yvonne, who looked at Brendan as if asking permission to allow Ste to sit down. It was Mitzeee who smiled and told him to park his sweet little bum. Yvonne blushed at the mention of Ste's backside and Brendan made a point out of looking everywhere _but_ at Ste.

Huh? Maybe he was gay.

"What are you doing here, Ste? Isn't this the inpatients' building?" Mitzeee asked, a dimpled smile on her face.

"I err, I missed breakfast and the staff cafeteria only sells coffee this early. What are you doing here, the sun has barely cracked through the night."

Mitzeee just shrugged and popped a cherry tomato in her mouth before she swallowed and said. "I'm only here for the week. Gotta spend as much time as possible with my baby here."

Ste raised his eyebrows and snorted. Baby was not the word Ste would use to describe Brendan. Gruff, yes. Mysterious, definitely. Mean, without a doubt. Sexy, sure. Baby? No fucking way. The guy looked like he could make babies just by staring at a woman for too long…or guy… if he preferred that.

Ste shook his head and concentrated on his food as he asked in what he hoped was an offhand tone. "How long have you two been together?"

"Yonks now, like six years." Mitzeee replied so surely it had both his head and Yvonne's snapping up. She was grinning at Ste when he looked at her, and beside her, Brendan just rolled his eyes.

"Wow, does that include his coma years?"

Mitzeee dropped her smile and a blanket of sadness overtook her expression. Brendan looked down at his pancakes, and whoa, how had Ste missed that mountain? Yvonne shuffled in her seat in discomfort, until finally Mitzeee looked back up with a smile too wide and eyes too hard for Ste to feel like she wasn't holding back a thousand things at that moment.

"He was in a coma, he wasn't dead. I loved him then, I love him now."

The words were so natural on her tongue that Ste felt a pang of guilt for ever having doubted their relationship. Maybe Brendan was like Mattie, maybe he liked both. Ste would mention that to the other man when he got home. People often made the mistake of generalising bi people with gay people. If his sexuality was worth noting in the first place, they should at least get it right.

An apoology was on the tip of his tongue, but when he looked up, he saw Mitzeee putting a forkful of eggs in her mouth, a wedding ring gleaming in the sunlight. Riley inscribed across it. Ste sighed down his frustration and looked at Brendan with a raised eyebrow. What the fuck was going on? Was Brendan's surname Riley, Brendan Riley?

"You never mentioned anything about being married, Brendan. You don't wear a wedding ring." Ste commented, aggravation at being in the dark clear in his tone.

Brendan choked on the food he was chewing before he looked at Mitzeee with an expression that could only be described to be a translation of _you fucked up. _Mitzeee put both her hands on her lap and refused to look at the dark haired man. It was Yvonne who finally spoke up.

"Clinic policy, remember? No jewellery." The nurse explained like it was so obvious.

Ste shook his head. He had been working at this place for a while, had interacted with enough inpatients to know that wedding rings were allowed. Brendan and Mitzeee were having some kind of silent conversation made up of moving eyebrows and looks of agitation. Mitzeee eventually sighed and declared that breakfast was over and she and Brendan would hang out in his room until his physical therapy session at eleven. Yvonne was a little exasperated, but she followed the other two's cue.

"Can I come?" Ste asked, not even knowing why. "My first class isn't till one. I'm meeting Mattie in a bit, but I have nothing to do until then."

Brendan looked like he was about to say no in a million different ways, but before he could Yvonne was pulling Ste up with a too happy smile on her face. "Yes, definitely. He doesn't shout as much when you're around."

Ste thought that was most probably due to the fact that Brendan didn't actually say_ anything_ when he was around. That was perhaps caused by some kind of deep hatred he had for Ste if the dagger he gave Yvonne was anything to go by. The nurse actually curled in on herself a bit at the look. Ste wouldn't have been surprised if flowers died and lightning struck outside at that moment.

The guy was definitely horror movie material, or at least a thriller about a ruthless murderer. Regardless, the nurse didn't take her invitation back, even if it wasn't up to her to give out invites. Well, Brendan would just have to speak up if he wanted Ste not to be there, and something told him, the dark haired man wasn't about to do that.

Their journey to the floor with Brendan's room was filled with Mitzeee's chatter, and when they got to the level, Gloria was getting into the elevator. Just as she did, Ste gave her a hello and the woman responded in kind, except she was a little distracted looking at Mitzeee with a curious look that soon evolved into one of excitement. She held the elevator doors open and flustered a little as she started to try and speak but kept tripping over her words.

"You – You're – oh Jesus, you're Mitzeee." Gloria grinned and started to rummage through her bag and dug out a pen and a piece of paper. Brendan looked a bit panicked while Yvonne just appeared extremely confused. Ste shared the sentiment. They all turned their attention back to Gloria, who finally managed to speak without stuttering. In fact, she started to babble a bit. "Can I get your autograph, and a picture too? Jesus Christ, you're more beautiful in real life than in your shoots. You looked exceptionally beautiful in that photo of you modelling the clothes by the Kardashians a couple of years ago. I was really sad that you stopped modelling. That husband of yours is so lucky, and you have a baby now too and –"

"That's enough." Mitzeee interrupted with a smile. She signed her autograph for Gloria and even took a selfie with her. Gloria continued to still looked star-struck, but Mitzeee was quick to shoo her away with the hint of impatience.

Ste had so many questions. So, so many. Shoots. Kardashians. The fact that she was recognised. But what kept going around Ste's head as they walked to Brendan's room was the fact that Gloria said Mitzeee had a baby. A fucking baby. If Brendan had a child he hadn't hinted at it at all. He didn't have any pictures of Mitzeee, who he was apparently married to, in his room. He didn't have any pictures of any babies either, or even this sister of his that Mattie had mentioned. This guy appeared like he had no one, but apparently there was a whole clan he was hiding.

Yvonne tried to help Brendan onto his bed, but the man was in a bad mood now, especially with his nurse. He shrugged her off before he painfully and carefully stood up, nearly falling forward from the instability of having to stand up without aid. That said, his therapy was definitely working, seeing as he walked the rest of the way with a hand tightly gripped around Mitzeee's arms as she assisted him the rest of the way.

Yvonne just rolled her eyes at Brendan's petulance and sat in the chair on the other side of the room. Mitzeee sat beside Brendan on the bed, their shoulders brushed against one another and the legs tangled together. There were no more seats in the room, so Ste parked himself at the foot of the bed, conscience to avoid the pairs of feet that threatened to skim against his thigh as he sat.

"How comes you don't have any pictures of your family in your room?" Ste asked when no one in the room spoke. He looked at the two on the bed, they really did make a good looking couple, they looked good together, and they looked like they really cared about each other too. "If I had a kid I was away from, I'd want a picture of him in my room."

"Brendan has one in his wallet. He's private and he doesn't like sharing what's closest to him." Mitzeee answered without missing a beat.

Ste could do that too though, "how old is your kid?"

"He's two." She grinned, but Brendan's eyes froze over as he looked at Ste with nerves wafting off of him like a bad smell.

Ste tilted his head to a side and lowered his brows as he glanced between the two. "You had a baby two years ago? While Brendan was in a coma?"

Mitzeee's smile faltered, but she managed to maintain it with force. "He was in a coma for a long time. Things happen. We've worked through it."

Ste turned his attention fully on Brendan this time, even as he responded to Mitzeee. "I thought he didn't like to share."

"Well – uh…" Mitzeee drifted off after that. If she had cheated on Brendan while he was in a coma, then Ste probably just opened up fresh wounds. But something told him, that wasn't the case. The tension in the room had nothing to do with that, but everything to do with the fact that they were hiding something from Ste, and Mitzeee had just made a big blunder.

Ste licked his chapped lips and shook his head as he laughed humourlessly. He stood up and walked to the door, not in the mood to engage with these people anymore, not when he couldn't believe a word that came out of any of their mouths. He looked at them all in the hopes that if he tried really hard he would be able to figure out what their deal was just by reading their faces. Yvonne was playing with her sleeves and refused to look up, while Mitzeee and Brendan watched him with what looked like abated breaths.

"I don't know what's going on here." Ste said as he looked at Brendan and only Brendan in the eye. "But I do know that there's something about you that's been messing with me since the day I met you. You can stay as silent as you want, make Yvonne and Mitzeee lie for you till their tongues fall out, but believe you me, Brendan, I _will_ figure you out."


	16. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

And this would have been where part 2 ended.

Enjoy, my honey pies :)

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Ste stormed his way back to the main building, annoyance clear in his demeanour. He didn't know why Brendan lying to him got to him so much, but it did. He was being subjected to one invention after another by a guy he barely knew while everyone else was in on the know. Yvonne clearly knew what was going on with the dark haired man, why he refused to talk to Ste or reveal anything of substance. Then Mitzeee, who without a doubt was going along with her boyfriend or husband or whatever the hell Brendan was to her.

Ste sighed in frustration as he took the elevator to the Psych floor and made his way to Mattie's office. He had an appointment with Dr Franklin in a while, but he was supposed to meet his boyfriend first. Except he wasn't due for another hour or so, because Mattie had an early patient. Instead, Ste grabbed himself a coffee from the machine and sat himself in the waiting area for Mattie's patient to inevitably come out weeping from his office.

Gloria sat behind her reception desk, tapping away on her computer. She had looked up and smiled when Ste walked in, but other than that, she was pretty much ignoring his existence. Ste slowly got up from his seat and approached the desk, smiling wide at her even though she wasn't actually looking at him. She must have felt creepiness emitting from him like a hurricane, because she eventually looked up with her top lip curled up and a scowl on her face.

"What do you want, Ste?" Gloria asked when Ste just continued to smile at her, his face starting to hurt from the effort.

Gloria, lovely Gloria." Ste said enthusiastically and rounded the reception desk, dragging a chair with him as he did, so he could sit right next to her. "What were you doing in the accommodation building?"

Gloria observed Ste suspiciously, but she answered the question regardless. "There were some sections missing from one of the patient's records. I went over to make sure they remembered to fill it up."

Ste tilted his head to a side and shuffled even closer to her. He hoped he looked like a puppy as opposed to a creature that was about to maul her, because that would've been counterproductive. "So you have access to patient records?"

The receptionist frowned, "no. The patient's doctor told me to remind him. I didn't even know what sections were missing."

"How much do you know about the patients?" Ste was beginning to get frustrated with her lack of help, and it was starting to show.

"Only what I hear around. All records are electronic and the only person with full access is the patient's direct psych doctor. Medical and therapy doctors have partial access, only to the bits that have a direct effect on a patient's health."

Ste rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly as he backed away from Gloria's personal space. The woman was getting uncomfortable, and Ste was getting overwhelmed by her too strong, flowery perfume. Besides, she wasn't going to be any help. She could fill stuff up for patients in their records, but she couldn't already see what was in them other than what was necessary. Hence, there was no point in being all up in her grill, she couldn't reveal anything if she even wanted to.

However, she did know Mitzeee.

"So," Ste feigned nonchalance and leaned back in his chair as if he was about to ask her about her grandkids birthday or something. He didn't actually know if she had grandkids, but despite her efforts, she kind of looked old enough to at least have a baby one. "Who's Mitzeee?"

Gloria looked at him like he had just scandalised her in the most horrific manner. "You were in an elevator with her, talking to her, and you have no idea who she is?"

"Clearly you do, so you know, wanna share?"

The receptionist no longer looked like she was afraid Ste was going to stab her and wear her skin as a cloak. An eager glean lit up her eyes and she grinned with excitement. "Well, she was a model. She's actually from the UK, I'm shocked you don't know her. She wasn't all that big there, though, so you know. It was only when she got to LA did she get her big break. She was too short and curvy for the catwalk, but lingerie lines and all that ate her up, especially the Kardashians. Kim isn't exactly the tallest and most slim person in the world, not that that's a bad thing, just you know, a fact…."

Ste zoned out a little into her monologue. There was a lot Gloria knew about Mitzeee, but none of it was of any real significance. The only thing that Ste found a little weird was that Mitzeee had moved to LA just over four years ago. He guessed it was possible to have a long distance relationship, but if Mitzeee had been telling the truth about Brendan not liking to share, then he couldn't imagine the man letting his girlfriend get mixed up in the LA scene and not have qualms about it.

"Who's Riley?" Ste asked, interrupting whatever tangent Gloria had gone off on.

"Oh, that's her husband. They got married three years ago. It was a spontaneous wedding. No one really knows why. It was very private and a year later, they had a kid and she stopped modelling all together."

So Mitzeee did have a two year old kid, and it definitely wasn't Brendan's. If it wasn't the dark haired man's, but the kid was her husband's, then Brendan was not the one Mitzeee was married to. They weren't even a fucking couple. Brendan wasn't bi and Mattie was right, he was gay and one hundred percent, completely, irrevocably a big liar.

Ste was about to ask whether Riley was a first name or a surname, but Mattie had opened his office door to see his patient out and caught sight of Ste. "Stop bothering my mistress, Ste. It makes me uncomfortable."

Ste rolled his eyes as he got up and walked back around the desk and towards Mattie, all the while Mattie winked at Gloria and mouthed to her that he'd call her later. The receptionist, for her part, chucked a scrunched up paper ball towards the doctor, making Mattie laugh when it barely made it half way and fell to the floor.

When they were both in the office and the door was closed, Ste sat on the sofa in the room and Mattie joined him, placing a kiss to the top of Ste's head before he sat down. "How are you feeling?"

Ste shrugged and leaned back in the sofa, sliding down so he was slouched and comfortable. "I don't know. Dr Franklin thinks I should stay at the hospital while the sleepwalking is bad, so they can monitor me. Except, I can't work here and be an inpatient too."

"Maybe it's a good idea, just for a little while." Mattie said hesitantly, as if he could prophesise the argument Ste would start over that.

"I'm not doing that."

"Ste," Mattie sighed. "You don't have to work –"

"So I can be your kept man. What is it, Mattie, you feeling emasculated by the amount of dick you suck, so you have to make sure you're the breadwinner to feel like more of a man?"

Mattie didn't even seem fazed by Ste's comment. He knew Ste was going to go for a viscous attack and he had been expecting it. His face was blank, no expression and Ste knew he was in psychiatrist mode. He hated it when Mattie did that to him, hold back his feelings and appear to be objective. Ste wasn't his patient, not anymore, and he wanted a god damn fight.

"Ste, you're upset and –"

"You're bloody well right, I'm upset. I have no control over my own body. I have a boyfriend who wants to section me –"

"I most certainly do not want to section you, Ste. You can get that out of your head right now." Ah, there was the anger Ste had wanted so badly. "What I want is to not wake up in the middle of the night because of a phone call from what I already know is the hospital. I want to not wake up to an empty bed, and our front door wide open. I want to not be terrified that this time the hospital won't just tell me that you had a panic attack in the middle of traffic, but this time they'll tell me that a car rammed right into you. That is what I want, Ste."

Ste breathed heavily in an effort to stop himself from crying. He knew that whatever was happening to him, was also affecting Mattie, was disrupting his day to day life. But he didn't want to stay here. He didn't want to feel like he was crazy. What happened to Brady was a long time ago. Maybe he'd never stop loving the man, but he just wished he'd be able to get over his death. Otherwise, it was going to be the death of him.

"I didn't mean it. What I said –"

"I know," Mattie interrupted and pulled him into an embrace. "I'm not mad at you, Ste. I'm just worried."

Ste didn't say anything, rather they both sat in silence in Mattie's office, curled up into one another until Ste's phone went off to remind him that he had his appointment with Dr Franklin. Mattie kissed him before Ste went into the neighbouring room for his hour with a shrink. Not much that hadn't already been said was discussed. Well, other than Dr Franklin's renewed interest in Brady.

"Have you ever considered that your relationship with Matthew is in fact something of _ménage_ à _trois?"_

"I don't even know what that means?" Ste responded. He didn't know what it meant, but he could take a guess and probably get it right.

"It means that you love Matthew, Matthew loves you, but there is more than just the two of you in your relationship. A triad"

Ste snorted, "you think we're having a threesome with a ghost?"

"I don't think anything, Ste. I'm trying to figure out what it is you think."

"No," Ste shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. "You're not a droid. Tell me what you think."

Franklin sighed and rubbed his eyebrows. "Fine. I think you are having a polyamorous relationship with a memory. I have no doubt that you love Matthew. But your love for Matthew may possibly derive from your need to put a physical entity to your love for Brady. Your first sexual encounter with Matthew was on the death anniversary of your former lover, when his memory was most strong and Matthew was the only warm body there. You have learnt to love Matthew since then, but you did not fall for him like you did Brady.

"Matthew, for his part, loves you very much too, but again, he is aware of a third party, and accepts the third party to a certain extent. He accepts that you love Brady and you will always hold a candle to him, but to accept that is the only way for him to have you, so he is willing to let Brady be a part of what you are. He probably would not appreciate that your sleepwalking was triggered by a sense memory of Brendan because it just goes to show that he will always occupy your innermost thoughts, but – "

"What did you say?" Ste interrupted, his attention acute on the shrink.

"Which part?" Dr Franklin raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Sense memory. You said sense memory of Brendan."

The psychiatrist's eyebrows lowered and he breathed out a heavy breath. "I meant Brady. Brendan is one of my patients. Sometimes my workload is heavy and –"

The timer went off to signal that their hour was up and Ste had to go prepare for his first class. The doctor looked like the bell had just saved his life and smiled at Ste as he told him that he'd see him again for their next meeting. Ste just nodded in a distracted manner and walked out of the office. His head was still reeling over the fact that Dr Franklin's supposed slip of the tongue was closer to the truth than he realised. He did keep getting sensory memories of Brady around Brendan, but he hadn't told the doctor that.

The day passed in something of a haze. Ste didn't see Brendan again, nor did he see Mattie until it was time for them to go home. When they got back to their flat, Ste had kissed Mattie until they fell onto their beds naked. He was apologising for having snapped at the man earlier. In addition to this, he was trying to prove Dr Franklin wrong. They weren't having some kind of threesome with Brady. Mattie was the only man in Ste's life now and he was going to damn well show that to him.

This resulted in a lot of sex over the next few days, and Ste sort of abandoned his strive to look for answers in regards to Brendan. He was still going to figure the man out, but he had to make sure his relationship was going to be okay first. A dead man already made up a lot of tension in their relationship – according to Dr Franklin, anyway – so Ste had to make sure a living one didn't add to it.

He had mostly forgotten that he was annoyed with Brendan until Yvonne helped him in the next week for class. The dark haired man didn't have a wheelchair anymore, now he held on to a pair crutches tightly in his grip, as if he was scared the metal would slip or give in to his weight. When Ste saw him again, all his original annoyance came rushing back. He gritted his teeth and bid them good afternoon, but it was only Yvonne who replied cheerily back. He only got a nod from Brendan.

"Where's Mitzeee?" Ste called out to Brendan as Yvonne sat him in his section.

"She went home last night." Yvonne answered. Ste just continued to stare at Brendan, though, and his jaws may have clenched as he did. Their eyes were locked on each other, even as Yvonne left the room, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like sexual tension. Ste ignored it and only looked away from the dark haired man when someone asked if they were going to start the class anytime soon.

Brendan's hands were a little steadier. Well, steady enough to hold on to crutches without dying, but his attempts at sculpting were still abysmal. Ste had to try really hard not to laugh at him with a fondness, or go up to him and help. Eventually, he did the latter, his annoyance giving way to his obligation towards patients. Brendan didn't say anything to him as Ste taught him how to curve his hands around the clay to get it to form a specific shape, and when Ste looked up to see if the man was actually listening, he caught Brendan watching the side of his face with a small wistful smile.

"What?" Ste asked, wiped at his face with his forearm. "Do I have clay on me?"

Brendan blinked as if he just realised he was caught staring and quickly looked away, not denying nor confirming whether Ste looked a mess. Sighing, he stood up and looked at his reflection in the window, and nope, all the mess was situated in his hands and apron. He looked back at Brendan and gave the man a frown, which was only returned to with a smirk, like Brendan was actually enjoying aggravating him.

When the class was over, and Yvonne took Brendan away, Ste was filled with renewed motivation to find out everything he could about Brendan whatever-his-surname-was. He rummaged through his bag and retrieved the iPad Mattie had gotten him for Christmas and opened up Safari. He could've googled Brendan long term coma patient, but that could come up with a gazillion unrelated results, so instead he googled Mitzeee.

Ste was right to assume that there weren't going to be multiple people by that name, as Mitzeee's dimpled face appeared in the image suggestions. There wasn't a Wikipedia page on her, but there was a fan-made site which had a bio tab for her. It wasn't very enlightening at first, Gloria had told him most of the information on it. However, the receptionist hadn't mentioned that Mitzeee had lived in Chester at one point. Many, many years ago, but she had. She lived in other places before that, but prior to LA, she had resided in Ste's home city.

Ste scrolled all the way back to the top, the part he had skipped about her childhood and read more carefully. Her name wasn't Mitzeee, well, it was, but it was her stage name. Her birth name was something plain, simple, and kind of pretty, suited her much better. Anne Minniver. Ste squinted at the name. The surname wasn't familiar, but he felt a sense of Déjà vu with the name Anne. He was sure he had heard it somewhere else. He had previously had at least two Anne's in his classes, but he was sure that the feeling that he knew that name originated from further back.

He read as carefully as he could, considering that his reading wasn't great. He knew how to read, he had learnt before he had gone blind. But eleven years of only reading braille had meant that it was difficult to pick back up on it when he could see again. He took classes, but he still tripped over a word here and there. So he was extra slow reading the bio to ensure that he didn't miss anything that would reveal what was exactly her and Brendan's problem.

Ste eventually got to the part that said she was in an on again, off again relationship with someone for several years, but eventually she got married to her footballer boyfriend, Riley Costello, three years ago. The bio wasn't clear as to why they had finally decided to commit, but speculated that it had something to do with a personal event in Anne's life. How someone she was very close to was in a life threatening situation and made her realise that life was too short. It was all guesswork, though, assumptions made from snip bits of interviews and whatnot.

There was a picture of Anne and Riley, and that guy was most certainly not Brendan. Ste had worked out that the dark haired man had been lying about his relationship with Anne, but it still made Ste's blood boil a little. Did Brendan think Ste would judge him for being gay? Ste was open about his sexuality, he was the last person who would do that.

There wasn't much more on Anne after she had a baby and went off the grid two years ago. She and Riley were extremely private about their relationship, so he didn't find much more when Ste googled the footballer's name. Ste had found out a little extra, but it didn't bring him any closer to figuring out why he was subjected to Brendan's lies more than anyone else.

Ste closed his iPad and took the elevator up to the psych floor. Mattie had a meeting, so they weren't due to leave for a little while longer, and it also meant his office was empty and his computer was unattended.

Gloria didn't even acknowledge him as he let himself into Mattie's office and sat himself down on the chair behind the desk. The computer was already switched on, but when Ste pulled up the records it asked for a password. Ste didn't know what it could be. He typed in Mattie's mum's name, but it denied him access. He typed in his own name, and still nothing happened other than a warning that he had one guess left. Ste racked his brain to figure out what it could be and eventually held his breath and typed in both Mattie's parents' name in. He could've cried from relief when he was let in.

Ste typed in Brendan in the search, and a few hundred hits came up. They weren't all names of patients, though. The search just detected every time the name Brendan popped up in someone's record. Ste eliminated those and just the kept patients' names. He clicked on a few, but none of the pictures matched the mute Brendan's face. He had no way of shortening the list. Everyone's record was listed under their patient numbers as opposed to their names to preserve confidentiality, just like their damn rooms. If Ste actually knew what the man's full name was, he wouldn't have to actually go through them all.

There was a chance that Mattie wouldn't even have access to Brendan's file, seeing as Franklin was the dark haired man's doctor. Ste was, however, working on the assumption that he had at least limited access, considering that he had been contemplating taking Brendan on. He was about to give up when Brendan, lying Brendan's face popped up. There wasn't much to go on. Long term coma patient yada yada. Was admitted by sister yada yada. Emergency contact: sister – C. Tenbury-Newent, _n__é__e _Brady.

C. Tenbury-Newent, _n__é__e _Brady.

_Brady._

_Brendan fucking Brady._

Ste jumped up from the chair like the thing had physically burnt him. It was a coincidence. His Brady was dead. His Brady just happened to have a sister whose first name also started with C. This Brady's sister's name could have been Chloe or Cecile or anything else. It wasn't _Chery_l. And just because he knew only Brendan's first name and Brady's last, it didn't mean they were the same name. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

There were voices from outside the office and Ste quickly logged out of the records and closed the window just in time for Mattie to come in.

"Hey, you ready to go? I'm fucking exhausted." Mattie's smile was tired and he looked at Ste like he wanted nothing more than to just cuddle up in bed and sleep for the rest of eternity.

"Do you mind if I grab a cab back?" Ste asked, rounding the table and wrapping his arms around Mattie's waist when he approached the man. "I just, I never get to work on my own sculpts because of the teaching schedule, and I wanna try something."

Mattie searched his face before a look of happiness overtook him. "You going to sculpt again? That's amazing, Ste."

Mattie closed the gap between them and kissed him deeply, following it with several other small kisses on the lips. They both went down together, but when Ste got off at his floor, Mattie kissed him again before bidding him goodbye, making sure to confirm that Ste would call when he was on his way back.

Back in his classroom, Ste fell heavily onto his chair and cradled his head in his hands. He wasn't sure when his shoulders started shaking with the force of his cries. He also barely even realised his actions as he unlocked the storage closet and brought out a chunk of clay. He manipulated it this way and that, but his hands shook violently, and his cries were becoming more forceful. If this wasn't his Brady, then someone really hated him.

And if it was…

Ste tried to get the clay to cooperate with him, but it never came out the way he wanted. Frustrated, Ste picked up the large mound and hurled it as far as his strength would allow him. It wasn't very far and the thing fell to the floor with a sickening splat. Ste found himself on the ground not long after, at a loss of what to do. He could just go ask Brendan if he was Brady, but he didn't think he'd be able to handle whatever the answer was.

The room was dark, only the moonlight streaming through the large windows illuminated the space. Ste let the darkness wrap around him and calm his sobs down into sniffles and hiccups of pain. He always preferred the dark, he could feel and even see, figuratively speaking, much more clearly when the world was wrapped up in a cloth of black.

With that in mind, Ste went back into the storage closet, brought out a fresh lump of clay and set it on the table in front of him. He turned his head this way and that until he caught sight of the lost and found box in the corner of the room. There was a scarf in there and Ste retrieved the object and wrapped it around his eyes, blinding him to his surroundings. He felt his way back to the table and let his mind's eye picture what his sight couldn't recognise.

His hands worked the clay in an almost automatic manner. He remembered the laugh lines, the sharpness of the jaws, the pointed nose and the plum of the lips. He remembered the feeling of an Adam's apple sliding beneath his touch, and the shell of a pair of ears curving into a perfect shape. He let his hands form the way the bones caved in to make space for eyes, and the shiver that ran beneath his fingers when he had glided his hand all the way down to the collar bones.

Ste wasn't sure how long he was at it, but when he was done, he was afraid to take the scarf off. Ste didn't know how he'd feel about what the end result looked like. With shaking hands he untied the scarf from behind his head and pulled the item away, his eyes still closed. He breathed in a few times before letting his eyelids flutter open.

Two things happened at once.

His insides froze. And everything else came crashing into him, knocking him to the ground.

Ste felt the salt in his mouth before he felt the stinging in his eyes. The room was closing in on him and his lungs felt too big for his ribs. He could practically hear his bones striving to keep his lungs in as he fought for breath. His back hid the ground, his head knocking against it as rasping sounds escaped his mouth. He pulled at his top, as if ripping the thing from his chest would allow him some breathing room, but that didn't stop the room from getting smaller.

There were hands on him, pulling him to a sitting position before getting him up and taking him outside. The voice belonging to the owner of the hands told him to breathe slowly. It was panicked and clearly contemplating whether to stay with Ste, or leave him to get a doctor. They decide to stay until Ste could feel his lungs swell down and the evening air cold against the sweat on his face. His vision cleared enough for Ste to recognise the afterhours cleaner, who observed him with worry.

He didn't say anything to her as he shakily got to his feet and walked towards the accommodation building. He let his legs do all the thinking as he made his way to the sixth floor and to the room he had been in several times and not recognised the habitant. Brendan was reading, like he had been the first time Ste saw him. He looked up as soon as he Ste had entered and he knew. He knew straight away. He managed to haul himself up with the aid of his crutches that had been by his bed and stood up.

Ste didn't move from the doorway. He just let the tears stream down his face and took the man in. His blue eyes, his raven hair, the cupid's bow of his lips. Everything he had ever imagined, there, in front of him, in its physicality. And Ste couldn't tell. He couldn't _tell. _It had been weeks and he never knew, never even thought to consider it.

He slowly walked into the room and Brendan stood up straighter where he was but didn't say a thing. Ste stopped when he was in front of the dark haired man and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Gently, he raised his hands and placed it on the other man's face, before slowly dragging it down, leaving a trail of drying clay behind. All his hairs stood on end as his fingertips picked up on the familiarity of the face he was touching.

Ste didn't know how clear it was when a sound finally escaped his mouth and he cried, "Brady?"

Brendan's mouth stretched out into a small, wobbly smile, and his eyes reddened with unshed tears. "Steven."


	17. More Than Just A Ghost

**Chapter 17**

Steven was sitting at the edge of the bed with his face buried in his hands. He had sort of collapsed onto the mattress, his legs giving in with the weight of a a truth he so badly wanted, but never thought he'd have. He never prepared for what it would be like to have Brendan standing in front of him, all soft skin, thumping heart beats and hot breath. It was one thing to wish for it when he never thought it'd come true, but it had, sort of, and now he probably didn't know where he stood.

Had Brendan been expecting passionate kisses and intense hugs with nails digging into flesh and tears bleeding through skin? No. Steven had mourned for Brendan, spent however long getting over him, if he ever got over him, and as reunions go, this was not necessarily a happy one. Yes, Steven hadn't lost Brendan, and Brendan could finally be truthful about who he was, but when it came down to it, Brendan didn't fit into Steven's life anymore. Not in a way that meant he was anything more than a ghost.

Steven gave up his home, the people he loved, everything he knew, and he made a new home, learnt to love new people. Brendan, Brendan was a part of the old life, the one he couldn't face. He was still a part of Steven, perhaps, but he was there in the form of something transcendental, ethereal, and now as a physical being, he threw everything into chaos. He brought two lives colliding together. The one Steven had and the one that was.

Brendan didn't call out to him, he didn't even sit next to him on the bed, rather, he slowly and painfully walked to the chair in the room, with the aid of his crutches, and fell into the seat. They sat like the for countless moments, it could've been a few minutes, or even hours, hell, it could've been days, but neither of them was aware of what was going on around them. They were too lost in the knowledge that the other was here, a tangible entity, not a memory that tortured them as equally as it reminded them that they were happy, could be happy, that being in love in that forever way was not just a myth in a story.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steven's voice was hoarse and broke away at certain points, meaning only a few words came out clear. "Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

Brendan sighed and looked down at his upturned palms that rested on his thighs. He could've given the answer he had told himself for the whole time he was at the clinic and knew that Steven had thought he was dead. He could've said that he didn't want to put Ste in a position where he had to pick his old life over his new, Brendan over Matthew. He didn't want to open wounds that Steven had tried so hard to close, he didn't want to hurt the other people that would be affected with revealing who he was, namely Matthew.

When it came down to it, though, gun to his head, Brendan was selfish and if he was being honest with himself, true raw honesty, then he had to say that he was scared.

"What if you didn't want to know?" Brendan didn't dare look up at Steven, didn't dare see whether his fears were justified. "What if after everything, you had grieved for me and let me go? I didn't want to make you pick between Matthew and I, because what if you pick him?"

There was a choked sobbing sound from where Steven was and Brendan tentatively looked up to see that the younger man wasn't looking at him. He was staring out the window, and Brendan didn't need possess Steven's eyes to know that the boy saw nothing. He looked, he watched, but he didn't see. Brendan wondered how long that had been going on for, how long Steven ostentatiously did something without really meaning it. How long he'd smiled without being happy, how long he talked, without really saying anything, how long had he breathed without really living.

"You know, they say that the person who says I love you first is the loser." Steven started, without turning away from the window, or acknowledging what Brendan had just said. "I never really thought of love in that way, like a competition, something to be won or lost and I probably never will. But you said it first, and I should've won. But then you were gone and I realised that I was the one who lost, because being able to tell you that I'm in love with you would've been my ultimate victory."

Brendan didn't know what to say to that, and maybe Steven wasn't expecting an answer. He didn't turn to look at Brendan, continuing to gaze out of the window. It could be that Steven just wanted to let Brendan know, let him in on the fact that if they could do it all over again, Steven would say it. Say that he loved Brendan, and then he wouldn't have spent the next three years living with a regret.

Slowly, Steven turned his head, his eyes gliding until they met Brendan's, a sheen of tears coating them and red little branches decorating the white of his eyes. He blinked once and a large tear hung from the bottom lashes of his right eye, until it could no longer take the wait and dropped like liquid diamond to splash against the gold of Steven's wrist.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steven asked again.

Brendan dragged his eyes up from the spilled tear and looked back up to Steven's face. He thought he had answered that question, but looking at Steven now, he knew it made no sense. It made no sense to fear Steven's answer, because for the boy there was never a choice to make. He was Brendan's and Brendan was his, everything else was subject to change.

"I'm sorry," Brendan whispered.

He finally got up off his seat and walked at a snail's pace to stand in front of Steven before he fell to his knees, so they were at a closer level. Steven looked so young this close, younger than when Brendan had met him. His eyes though, they looked as if they've been through a million lifetimes. Like even when they only saw darkness, they'd seen enough.

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Brendan dropped his head to Steven's knee and breathed in deeply in an effort to control his emotions that were threatening to seep through his pores and show him to be the mess he was. Steven's fingers carded through the hair just above Brendan's nape and his thumb stroked at the goose-pimples that arose on the skin at the back of his neck. Brendan felt Steven move before he felt the plumpness of a pair of lips replace his thump where he had been stroking.

And that did it. Brendan's shoulders shook as he let himself finally let go of all the emotions that had been building up since he woke up. He may have howled, or he may have silently wept, but through it all, Steven never once removed his lips from that spot on Brendan's neck. The pressure that made it a kiss ceased, but the contact was still there, skin on skin.

When Brendan shuffled a bit to signify that he was ready to sit up, Steven backed away, but as soon as Brendan leaned up, the boy reached for his hands and clasped one of his with one of Brendan's. "How, how are you here?"

"Cheryl looked for you, she did. It's not her fault. As much as I wanted to blame her, it wasn't her fault." Brendan began as a way of explanation. Steven just frowned at him in confusion. "She didn't know you thought I was dead, and when she couldn't find you, she moved me to Ireland to take care of me there. There wasn't anyone she knew she had to tell that I was alive. She didn't know that telling Tony, or anyone else could've saved a lot of pain."

Steven's hold around Brendan's hand tightened and he scuffled closer to the edge of the bed, closer to Brendan. "I couldn't go back there. My flat was practically our flat by the time…" Steven drifted off, both of them aware of what happened without it being needed to be said. "The restaurant was… it would've felt wrong without you there at lunch, arguing with Thayer, making Casey blush and being crude with Danielle. Without you there to make me wish that we didn't have to go back to work, that we could just stay like this, happy in our domesticity. I should've gone back."

Brendan shook his head and pulled at Steven until the boy fell off the bed and onto Brendan's lap. "You did what you had to do to survive."

"That's what I've been doing for the past three years, though. I've been surviving. Everything I have here has just been floatation devices to keep me from drowning."

Brendan didn't know how to comfort Steven other than to hold him closer and tighter. For all the pain that Brendan had been feeling, Steven had it countless times worse. Brendan had the luxury of sleeping through the years without Steven, and after he knew that Steven was alive and out there, and eventually he even got to see that Steven was well, not his old self, but he was doing okay.

But the boy, he had had to deal with losing someone he loved and under conditions in which he blamed himself. He had to experience day after day of this loss, suffer through it. He didn't have the comfort of knowing the Brendan was out there, he didn't have the comfort of seeing Brendan or even his grave. He just… he had to deal with unknown, years filled with unanswered questions.

"There's no choice, Brady…" Steven smiled a wobbly smile. "Brendan."

Brendan felt his mouth rip open into a grin, even as his eyes filled with tears. Steven called him Brendan, knowing that he was Brady. "Say it again."

Steven gave a breathy laugh and brought his forehead closer to rest against Brendan's. "Brendan."

Brendan kissed one eye, felt Steven's lashes flutter beneath his lips as they closed before the touch. Then he kissed the other and whispered, "again"

Steven smiled serenely and his body drew closer to Brendan's, almost unconsciously, "Brendan."

They stayed like that for a while. Both of them on the floor. Steven's body curved into Brendan's, neither moving to the bed, despite that the floor probably doing a fair amount of damage to the progress Brendan had made in moving his bones without feeling like Satan was playing a one man orchestra with his pain receptors.

"What now?" Steven mumbled into the collar of Brendan's top, his head resting against the older man's collar bones. The question came out a little dazed, like he had just made his way out of a mist and he was still trying to make sense of his surroundings.

"I don't know," and that was the honest to god truth.

Brendan had never planned to tell Steven who he was, so he never planned what they'd do with their lives if Steven happened to find out. Brendan was going to leave sooner or later, he was going to get better and return to Ireland or wherever he decided to leave to. And Steven, he had a job, a life… a man who loved him. They were at an impasse with a train heading their way. It was either wait for their ruin, or find it in them to make a decision of where they go from here.

Steven lifted his head up and looked at Brendan with enquiring eyes, eyes that were begging the older man to help him, tell him what to do, because it was Steven that was trapped to make the decision. No matter what he did now, Brendan would accept it. He would leave Steven alone if that was what the boy decided, and he'd welcome Steven back if he decided that instead.

"I'm sorry I didn't say I love you back all those years ago." Steven said in a low voice, a secret.

Brendan's heart started thumping hard in his chest. This was it, this was the moment Steven would tell him that he loved him all those years ago, that he loved him now, that Brendan was always going to be his, but that he had moved on. That there was no choice because Brendan was never alive to make a choice over, and now he had learnt to live with Brendan as only a reflection of what was, he'd never let Brendan go. But it was the ghost he was holding on to, not the man.

"I never said I love you, so you'd say it back, Steven." Brendan said so softly it felt like a string of silk slipping out of his mouth. "I said it, so you'd know."

Steven bit into his bottom lip, hard, and nodded like he was trying to force himself to understand, if he nodded enough, he might just believe that Brendan never wanted anything from him, not even his love. Just the chance to fall in love himself.

Steven's nodding slowly morphed into him shaking his head, slowly at first, then faster. He stood up from where he sat on Brendan and walked the length of the room back and forth, back and forth while he kept repeating, "you should've told me, you should have told me."

Brendan reached for his crutches where they had rolled away and pulled himself up from the floor, conscious to keep his groan of pain internal. He didn't need or want Steven feeling worse about him. "I know, Steven. And I'm sorry."

"SORRY'S NOT GONNA CUT IT!" Steven screamed at him with a fury that had his blue eyes burning through to Brendan's core.

He knew this was going to happen. There was the shock that Steven had gone through, the tears, the exhaustion and now came the anger. The anger that, yes, they couldn't have done anything about Steven thinking he had been dead for over three years, but Brendan could've changed everything in a single moment just by saying one thing.

"I thought you were dead, Brendan. For over three years, I thought I killed you!" Steven wasn't shouting now, but his words had the effect, the power and force words that were being hollered would've had. Brendan opened his mouth to deny that Steven had killed him, but the boy spoke over any attempt. "You died to give me my life, my sight, and you know what?" Steven paused, but it was clear that if Brendan even attempted to answer, a whole other level of the boy's wrath would come down on him.

"I didn't want it. I hated having my sight. People are cruel. The world is cruel. Before, every person I met was beautiful, inside and out. I could see in people things that made them wonderful no matter how fucked up they themselves thought they were." Brendan, he was talking about Brendan. "I didn't have to… I wanted to be blind because the world is a fucking ugly place without you. I didn't need to see the sun rise. Not ever. I saw it the day you said the words 'I love you'."

He was breathless and panting by the time he finished, and if anything, Brendan felt it had bled him out more than the boy. Steven had said on his list that he wanted to save a life, and he didn't even realise that he was the reason Brendan was standing in front of him. There was no reason for him to fight to live while he was in that coma, no reason other than Steven. Yes, his sister would have cried for him, suffered his loss, but she had Nate and baby Christopher giving her a purpose to carry on. He knew she'd be okay.

But for the short time Steven was in his life, he offered Brendan that purpose that Cheryl had been graced with. That reason to try. Not just to breathe, not just to live, but to be happy. He hadn't had that. When Eileen had been pregnant all those years ago, he got a taste of it, what it could mean to have a reason to get up in the morning, but it was ripped from him as quickly as it was gifted. But then Steven… Steven had saved him.

"Steven, I –" he didn't know what he would have said then, but he didn't need to.

Steven's mouth was on his. Hot and open, inviting him in. Brendan let go of the crutches he was holding onto and was barely aware of the clattering sound they made as they hit the ground. He used his now free hands to hold on to Steven, one hand around the boy's waist, wrapped all the way round till he could hold the boy close to him, every inch of their torso touching. He clasped his other hand around the nape of Steven's neck and pressed him in, deeper.

Steven opened beneath him like a blossoming flower, all red and sweet. Brendan swept his tongue into the younger man's mouth and glided it across every crevice, every curve, he replaced memories with hard realities. Steven fought for dominance for a while, feeling the same need as Brendan to explore everything, remind himself, but eventually he succumbed like honey and practically poured his body to Brendan's will.

Steven's arms had been wrapped around Brendan's neck, but they gently glided down his back and over his arms before reaching for the hem of Brendan's top. He tugged at it and Brendan was so close to giving in to everything he had craved since the moment he woke up. To the feeling of Steven's warmth around him, his softness, his purrs and the way he moaned Brendan's name like it was as easy as breathing.

But this wasn't right. It wasn't. He let go of Steven and clasped his hands around the boy's wrist before he slowly, moved it from where it scratched at the small of Brendan's back. He pulled his mouth away and ignored the distressed sound that escaped Steven's mouth.

"You don't want this." Brendan whispered, still so close that his wet lips slid against Steven own slick ones.

Steven looked confused for a moment as if to say this was everything he wanted, but then realisation came over him and he backed away as suddenly as he had kissed Brendan. He muttered something and shook his head vigorously, no doubt telling himself off for being weak enough to give into Brendan when it wasn't as easy as accepting the older man back into his life.

"Where is he now?" Brendan asked.

"At home." Steven didn't look at Brendan, but the older man could see the way his bottom lip wobbled. "Waiting for me."

Brendan sighed and looked at the ground. Steven may love Brendan, but there was more than just the two of them in the equation. It didn't take a genius to know that Steven would hate himself for having sex with him while Matthew was in their home, awaiting his return.

"Oh god," Steven breathed in harshly, forcing Brendan to look up to him. "Oh god, oh god," he wiped his hands down his faces aggressively as if he could hurt himself back into the real world. He lifted his head up and opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, he changed his mind in the last minute and instead he apologised. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I have to go."

He made his way to the door and pulled the thing open but he turned around and looked at Brendan one last time before he left.

"He's waiting for me." Steven repeated and Brendan just nodded once slowly to let Steven know that he understood. "He loves me." Steven sighed deeply. "I gotta go, I gotta go to Mattie."

Steven turned and left, leaving the door wide open in his wake and Brendan feeling like he had no idea where he stood.


	18. Break a Little Harder

**Chapter 18**

Ste crept into his house and made his way to the bedroom without switching any of the lights on. Manoeuvring himself in the dark was something of a talent, and he rarely ever had to flood the place with artificial lighting; the only reason he did was for Mattie's sake and the fact that it was really fucking creepy.

Mattie was asleep when he got to their room, his back to Ste with only his hair poking out at the top. The room was lit up softly with the bedside lamp, and when Ste rounded the bed, Mattie arm was hanging off, his phone in his hand. Ste internally berated himself for forgetting that he was supposed to call Mattie when he was on his way back to let the man know he was okay.

The phone screen had turned black from disuse, but when Ste took the item from his hand, his finger touched the screen and it lit to reveal the series of texts Mattie had sent him. Ste sighed and put the phone away, guilt stirring up in his stomach as he did. He had switched off his phone when he started sculpting, he hadn't deliberately been ignoring the man.

Ste tucked Mattie's arm under the duvet, then sat on the ground facing him. He tilted his head to a side and observed the man who had been nothing but good to him for as long as they'd known each other. Ste didn't deserve him, he didn't deserve either of them, not Brady – Brendan or Mattie. Both of them would do anything for him, and he had done nothing to prove he was worthy of it.

Ste slowly leaned his head forward and kissed Mattie on the top of his head, then stood up before he walked over to their closet and retrieved a blanket. The sofa was uncomfortable to sleep in. They only bought it when Mattie moved in and it was clearly for more aesthetic purposes than comfort. It was too hard, too angular and the leather was so freaking cold, but Ste made do. He couldn't sleep next to Mattie, not with what he had done with Brendan.

Brendan.

Brendan was Brady and Brady was alive. He was alive and Ste loved him as much as he had done three years ago, if not more. All the pain, the heartache, the wishing, the praying to the god he didn't believe and _Brendan was alive. _He was solid and there and Ste wanted to be with him that very moment. He wished he wasn't with Mattie and he hated himself for it because Mattie loved him, and he did love Mattie too. Not like Brendan, never again like Brendan. But he did. Enough to feel like a complete bastard for the inevitable hurt this was going to cause him.

Ste didn't know when he fell asleep, when his thoughts became dreams, but before he knew it, there was a hand gliding through his hair and a voice gently calling him awake. Ste's eyes stung when he managed to flutter his eyelids open, and his heart hurt when he saw the soft smiling face of Mattie looking down at him.

"Why didn't you come to bed, that sofa's going to do your back in." Mattie said as he passed Ste a cup of coffee.

Ste groaned and sat up on the sofa, his back against the arm rest as he let the blanket slide off him and puddle on the floor. "Didn't want to wake you by climbing in at a shitty hour."

Mattie lifted up Ste's feet and sat on the sofa before he let them drop down to his lap. "I texted you, but I guess you must've been engrossed in your work."

"Yeah, sorry about that. My phone was switched off."

"Get much done, how was it?"

Ste didn't know how to answer that question. He was so used to telling Mattie everything and he was scared that even if he lied, the man would know and that would hurt him more than the truth. He had been Ste's confidant for so long and not being able to tell Mattie was going on was making his tongue burn in his mouth.

"It was quite revealing," Ste smiled and sipped his coffee. Mattie gave him a _'you high?'_ face, but smiled back like this was just Ste being incoherent this early in the morning.

Mattie patted him on his leg before he stood up and walked back to their bedroom to get ready for work. Ste was supposed to be in too, but before he realised it, he was telling Mattie that he wasn't going in that day, asking him to call in sick for him, so they could let the people in his classes know that he was going to be absent. Mattie gave him a worried look and put the back of his hand to Ste's forehead, commenting how Ste did look like shit.

One sick day turned into three, excluding the weekend. Ste didn't say much to Mattie and Mattie assumed it was because he wasn't feeling too well. He continued to sleep on the sofa because he just couldn't force himself to lie down beside someone who wasn't Brendan. He told Mattie it was because he didn't want to make the other man ill, that him being absent from work was a lot more problematic than a sculpture teacher missing a few days. Eventually, Mattie made them swap if that was going to be his excuse, and Ste ended up never leaving the bed.

Mattie let him off until Wednesday morning, when he started insisting that Ste go to the doctors if he was still feeling like crap. "Look, I know I have the title, but I don't actually have an MD, Ste. We need to get you checked out."

Ste buried his face into the pillow, his voice muffled, "it's just a bug, not a big deal."

Mattie whipped the pillow out from under his head, "You don't have a fever, and you're not showing any symptoms relating to a bug."

"Thought you didn't have an MD," Ste mumbled, dragging the other pillow to rest his head on.

Mattie sighed above him, and the sound came across so exhausted, so exasperated and Ste just felt like an even bigger shit. He was avoiding Brendan by not going to work, as if just being in the same building as the other man was going to overwhelm him. And then he was being a dick to Mattie by barely talking to him, never touching him if he could evade it, and Mattie knew that it wasn't just because he was feeling ill.

"I'll go to work," Ste murmured as he whipped the duvet off of him and climbed out of bed. He didn't get far though. Mattie wrapped his hand around Ste's wrist and pulled him back to him, before he wrapped his arms around Ste and rested his chin on the younger man's head. Ste couldn't stop the tears that started streaming then. He had avoided crying since he came home after seeing Brendan, but couldn't stop himself then, not in the warmth of Mattie's hold around him.

"Hey, hey, shh," Mattie cooed as he stroked Ste's hair and held him closer. "What is it, talk to me."

Ste didn't move his body, but he leaned his head back a little so he could make eye contact with his boyfriend. "I love you, Mattie. You have to believe that. I do love you."

Mattie frowned a little in confusion, but his face was still sympathetic. God, Ste hated him for being so good to him. "I know that. I love you too. What is this about, Ste?"

Ste bit his lips and pushed himself back gently before he wiped his face, "I just want you to know that, okay? Don't forget it."

With that, Ste turned on his heels and headed towards the bathroom to shower for the first time since he found out exactly who Brendan was. When he got out, Mattie was waiting for him in the living room, a smile on his face that didn't completely reach his eyes. Great, Ste had freaked him out now.

Ste avoided the patient cafeteria all day, and he had to consciously ignore the metaphorical itch in his feet that kept nagging for him to go look for a certain someone. He would have to inevitably see Brendan the next day, but he was worried that if he saw Brendan again, he wouldn't leave. Being around the dark haired man made him forget about the world, made him selfish and only think about how much he wanted to curl up with Brendan and feel the older man's heart beat beneath his touch. Mattie be damned. But that wasn't who Ste was, and when reality came back around, Ste would feel the true extent of the calamity.

He met Mattie for lunch like he usually did at work and made a conscious effort to make everything seem normal. He talked nonsense, laughed when the cue called and smiled like his inside weren't going through a pandemonium. And through it all, Mattie didn't believe a single second of it. He looked at Ste like he was afraid that if he breathed too heavily, Ste would crumble into a million unfixable pieces.

Ste successfully managed to not see Brendan that day, and he knew that it wasn't fair to the dark haired man. Ste finally knew exactly who he was, and with that knowledge in hand, Ste was avoiding him like the plague. It was just that… He just didn't know what to do. He was between a rock and a hard place. All he wanted to do was see Brendan, but that would hurt Mattie, but avoiding Brendan hurt the man himself.

When they got home that day, Mattie and he ate together, and when they watched TV, Ste pretended he didn't notice how Mattie held him a little tighter, a little closer than normal. And in bed, Ste didn't say anything when Mattie crawled in beside him, nor when the older man wrapped himself around Ste like he was trying cocoon him from all the bad in the world.

Ste was nervous the next day at work. He had Brendan in his final class of the day and he didn't know how Brendan was going to react to seeing him again. Mattie was a little twitchy as well, like he was buzzing with nerves he never felt before. Ste gave him a quizzed look when they parked up in the staff parking lot, but the doctor just smiled at him and placed a soft kiss to his mouth before leaving the car.

The day had gone pretty smoothly until his second to last class that had Daisy his neighbour in it. She kept smiling at him like she knew something he didn't and it made Ste feel uncomfortable. Even Bob kept giving him these massive grins he tried and failed to suppress. Maybe they had finally had hot, old people sex and were really chuffed about it. Ste shook his head, hard, in an attempt to get rid of _that_ image. Old people didn't have sex. Nope. Never. Especially not Daisy, who still brought him Sunday roast.

He found out in Brendan's class. Brendan, who looked like he hadn't had a wink of sleep the entire past week. He walked in slowly, so slow that it seemed like maybe his bones groaned in pain every time he moved, and he not once looked at Ste as he went to his spot. Yvonne stood in the doorway and watched him, clearly ready if Brendan fell and needed her by his side. Her eyes never left him until he sat down in the chair and gave her an _'I'm fine, see?'_ look.

She smiled back at him, but before she left, she turned her gaze to Ste and all that hero worshiping glint she used to have in her eyes was gone. She dropped her smile and looked at him like he wasn't worth the shit on her shoes. Brendan must've told her everything. Her loyalties clearly lay with Brendan and it was obvious that she was unhappy about the avoidance and perhaps that Ste hadn't dumped Mattie's ass already.

It wasn't that easy. Saying he wanted to be with Brendan, wanting to be with Brendan was not as hard as looking into Mattie's earnest eyes and crushing his heart. Ste might not love anyone the way he loved Brendan, but god dammit, he cared about Mattie too much to hurt him like that. Or maybe he was just a coward who wanted someone else to sort this out for him.

Yvonne left after the glare and he swept his eyes across the classroom to meet Brendan's who… who smiled like the past week was fine. That even though it hurt, he understood, he got it. He looked at Ste like Ste could do whatever to him, and he wouldn't be angry. And Ste? Ste wanted to shake him, force him to make all this okay.

Their eyes met several times during the lesson, and not once did Ste walk up to him, talk to him, not even as the smiles Brendan sent him became more and more pained. Not even as the class was beginning to tidy up and leave for the day. And especially not when Bob opened his classroom door and shoved Mattie in like he was going to hang him upside down and whip him till he did what he was told to do.

Daisy was there too, grinning like she was trying to contain herself, bouncing slightly where she stood. Mattie looked sheepish and more nervous than ever while everyone else in the classroom froze where they were and stared at the scene. Ste should've seen it coming, he should've.

Mattie cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head as he walked closer and closer to Ste until he could take a hand in his. "Steven, the other day you asked me to remember that you love me." Ste quickly glanced at Brendan and saw the man burning holes into the ground with his eyes. Ste wanted to tell him that he didn't mean that he loved Brendan any less, but Mattie was still talking, so Ste turned to look back at him. "And I want you to know that I love you too, and I will for the rest of my life." Oh god. Oh god, no. "You said that you'd want to get married one day and I just… Ste, you make my cardiac muscle pump blood through my vascular system really, really quickly."

The classroom started laughing at that, and Ste smiled too, mumbled, "you're such a geek." But the whole time he couldn't stop thinking about Brendan, who was watching all this.

"Sorry," Mattie laughed timidly before he continued. "I wanna feel like that forever, Ste, and I want to spend forever with you. So. Steven Hay." He got down onto his knees. "Will. You. Marry me?"

The whole room held its breath in anticipation and Daisy was actually squeaking with joy somewhere in the room. But Ste could barely hear any of that with the blood roaring in his ear. And Mattie, he was on his knees, and his face was so expectant, so sure that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Ste couldn't do it, he couldn't break him in front of all these people he would have to see day after day.

"Yeah," Ste's voice was hoarse, the words refusing to come out. "I mean, yes. Yes."

Mattie grinned and stood up, pulling him into an all-consuming kiss and hug. Bob was saying something about how he told Mattie there was nothing to worry about, and the rest of the room was clapping. Except two. Ste hadn't noticed Yvonne coming to pick up Brendan, and she was watching him with horrified eyes.

Ste could handle that. What he couldn't handle was when he caught Brendan's eyes over Mattie's shoulder, looking at him like he didn't know how to breathe. Yvonne was by his side just as his legs gave in and helped him out of the room, but Ste couldn't get the hurt in Brendan's eyes out of his mind. Mattie had let him go at one point and he was talking animatedly and there were people congratulating them and Ste needed to get out of there.

He didn't leave though. Not right away. Bob had gone and gotten them a carton of juice to celebrate when everyone else had cleared out. Ste smiled and kissed Mattie on the lips and acted like he was over the moon to have gotten engaged. At one point, his eyes had flicked over to the storage cabinet that held the bust of Brendan in there – he had put in there before he left to go home the previous week and it had been haunting him since. Mattie caught him looking and asked if everything was okay, but Ste had just smiled and nodded.

"I err, I just remembered something." Ste suddenly said. "I have to go talk to one of the patients about something, really quickly."

He didn't give Mattie the time to say okay or not, he leaped up off of his chair and speed walked to the in-patient accommodation building. News travelled fast here, and he was stopped a couple of times to accept congratulatory hugs and handshakes. But when he eventually got to his destination, Yvonne saw him first and slammed the door in his face before he could even open his mouth.

"Yvonne!" Came Brendan's voice from the other side, before the door swung open and there stood Brendan. He couldn't look Ste in the eyes, opting to look over his shoulder and past him, "what do you want, Steven?"

Behind him, Yvonne wasn't even pretending to not listen. Ste licked his lips and tasted salt in the corner of his mouth. He hadn't been aware he was crying. "I'm sorry. Brendan, that wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't know he was going to propose. I think he thinks I'm falling into depression again, and he wants to give me something to hold on to, he wanted to show me that things get better, but I swear, I didn't know he was going to propose."

Brendan let him rant until he lay breathless and waiting for the older man to say something. Slowly, he let his eyes meet Ste's. "You said yes."

Ste opened his mouth, but instead of words, a choked sound came out, then, "I couldn't break his heart, not in front of all those people."

Brendan looked at him like he was missing the point. He cocked his head to a side and a tear slid out of the corner of his eyes and dropped from the side of his face to the ground. "Steven," he whispered like it hurt to say his name. "You broke mine."

With that, he slowly closed the door with a soft click that exploded in Ste's heart.


	19. The Losing Fight

**Chapter 19**

Ste swallowed down a lump in his throat and slowly turned away from the door. He could hear muffled sounds from the other side, but he couldn't actually decipher any words. He just about could tell that it was Yvonne speaking in what could be a comforting tone, suddenly followed by an aggressive bark from Brendan. Probably telling her to leave him alone. Ste wanted to stay and demand that Brendan listen to him, because saying yes to Mattie in no way, shape or form made Ste's feelings for Brendan diminish at all.

As he slowly walked away from the room and made his way down in the lift and back to the clinic building, Ste's insides were beginning to burn more and more with the feeling of anger. Anger at himself for not having a handle on this situation, anger at Brendan for not letting him explain, and anger at Mattie for making it so hard to break up with him. Because Ste had to do that. He did, he knew that. Mattie deserved more than to be with someone whose heart belonged to someone else. He deserved more than to end up marrying someone who would constantly regret and wonder about what ifs. Mattie deserved someone who could love him as much as he loved back.

Daisy and Bob had gone by the time Ste made it back to his classroom and Mattie was sitting on the edge of Ste's desk. He had Ste's jacket on him, and the man gave Ste a small smile as he handed it over. "You ready to go?"

Ste didn't trust himself to speak, so instead, he nodded and took the jacket off his boyfriend, no fiancé. Fuck.

The car ride back to the house was silent and the atmosphere didn't sit right. They had just gotten engaged and that meant, technically, they should have been all over each other. Ste should have reached over and held the hand that was resting on Mattie's thigh as he drove with one hand. He knew why he wasn't doing it, but he was starting to wonder what had happened to the man who was overjoyed twenty minutes ago about getting engaged to the boyfriend he had been dating over a year now.

When they eventually got back to the flat, Mattie barely waited a second before he pushed Ste back against the closed front door and kissed him with a vigour. They'd had rough sex before, never because they were angry, but just because. But this time, the swipes of Mattie's tongue was a little too forceful, and his hands dug a little too deep into Ste's waist. This was rough because there was an underlying of ire gnawing beneath their skins. Both of them. So Ste gave as good as he got. He clawed and he shoved and when Mattie reached for his belt, he backed away with too much strength.

Mattie looked at him like he was just waiting for Ste to tell him to stop, his lips were red raw and his eyes flashed with something that was so alien to Ste to see on Mattie's face. Ste had no idea what happened in the few minutes he was gone to see Brendan, but whatever had occurred had seriously pissed all over what should've been a parade.

He didn't say anything as he left Ste at the door, both of their clothes rumpled in their hair mussed from the fingers that ran through it. Ste slid down the door until he sat on the floor, his knees to his chest and his head resting them. He could hear Mattie opening and closing the fridge and the clinking of bottles against one another. When he came back, he held one out for Ste, who lifted his head up and dubiously took the drink.

Mattie didn't tell him to get up, rather he sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall of the hallway and stared down at his drink. "This should be one of the happiest days of our lives, so please tell me why my fiancé of an hour looks like he has been bawling his eyes out?"

Ste didn't answer straight away. He took a large gulp of his beer and forced himself to stand up, then he looked down at his fiancé whose face had returned to its usual kind, earnest expression and Ste wanted to scream at him. To punch him, get him to hate him. He didn't hit the man, though, he found himself hurling the glass beer bottle across the hall until it smashed against the opposite wall and all its content spilled out.

"You see that, Mattie?" Ste asked him with a fresh wave of tears falling down his face. "That bottle is me. There is no fixing it, all I do is create a mess."

Mattie didn't comment on anything, he didn't even get up and look at Ste, opting to stare at the spillage on the floor. He didn't look away as he brought his own drink to his lips and tilted his head back to take a long drain of his beer. When he finished the bottle in one go, Ste still watching him, he finally stood up and hurled the bottle to smash and join the smithereens of Ste's bottle.

"There." Mattie smiled, but not really. It was a stretch of the mouth that curved upwards at the corners, but it wasn't really a smile. "Now we're both broken." He walked past Ste and into the main area of the house as he mumbled. "And I plan to be drunk too."

Ste followed the other man into the kitchen where Mattie pulled out the rest of the pack of beer and tried to move past Ste into the living room, but the younger blocked his exit and looked at him with a frown on his face. Ste knew why he was a big dysfunctional ball of chaos, but he had no idea what was going on in Mattie's head.

"What did I do?" Ste asked, when it became clear the Mattie wasn't going to say anything.

The doctor bit onto the bottom of his lips hard and looked over Ste's shoulders, like he was trying to suppress his emotions – be it anger or sadness – and looking at Ste would mean that he'd explode whatever he was feeling. He shook his head slowly and turned around before he put the beer bottles on the kitchen counter and balanced his palms on the flat surface to lean all his weight against.

"Are you cheating on me, Ste?" Mattie asked with a quake in his voice.

"What?!" Ste squawked and walked the few steps it took to get close to the other man.

"Are you. Fucking. Cheating on me?" He didn't raise his voice when he cursed and that made the word all the sharper, the more painful as it cut through Ste.

"Mattie, what are you talking about?" Ste asked.

The doctor spun around where he was standing, his face only a few inches from Ste's. He didn't look angry, just like he was tired of all this bullshit. "I'm talking about patient BB30867, fucking Brendan."

Ste stumbled back a few steps like the words out of Mattie's mouth had physically struck him. He wasn't cheating on Mattie, and he knew that it was only little consolation, because he probably would have slept with the dark haired man a week ago when he finally had Brendan in his arms again. He would've hated himself later, but at that moment, he hadn't been aware of a world outside the vicinity of Brendan's warmth.

But Mattie had no way of knowing that, knowing what Brendan meant to Ste, unless…

"Did you know?" Ste asked, his brows drawing down and his heart beating so loud he was positive he could feel the vibration on his clothing. "Did you know who he was this whole time and not tell me?"

Now it was Mattie's turn to frown and ask, "what?"

"Did you know who he fucking was this whole time?!"

"Did I fucking know that you've been cheating on me with a fucking inpatient this whole time? NO! I fucking did not, Ste. Why would I make a fool of myself like I did today, if I knew that? Especially in front of him, so the pair of you could have a good laugh at me after you ran off." Ste shook his head to illustrate how that was not what happened at all, but Mattie was still talking and the pain in his voice was too stifling for Ste to tell him to stop. "I wasn't expecting you to deny it, Ste, but you're making it seem like I'm the bad guy while you're the one that ran off to talk to your fuck minutes after I proposed."

Ste dragged a hand down his face and shook his head. "I haven't been fucking him," Ste cried, his nose dripping and his head aching like someone thought it was a good idea to whack him around the skull a couple of times. "I swear, Mattie. I didn't."

Mattie scoffed disbelievingly and barged past Ste to make his way into their bedroom. Ste waited a few minutes before he followed, making sure to breathe through the panic attack that was threateningly clawing at his lungs. When he did get there, he didn't know what he was expecting, but a sobbing Mattie was not it. Mattie had been the rock for him for so long, so Ste didn't realise just how truthful he was being earlier when he chucked the bottle and said that now they were both broken.

"I didn't sleep with him, Mattie. You have to believe me." Ste begged from the doorway, too afraid to get close to the distraught man.

Mattie heaved large breaths for a few seconds to get his bearings, and then finally turned his red raw gaze to look at Ste. "Do you even want to marry me?"

"I would have." Ste spoke softly. "If you asked me two weeks ago."

Mattie opened his palm and looked down at it before turning it around and placing it to cup his knees. "Why did you say yes, then?"

"I couldn't say no in front of everyone, Mattie. I couldn't do that to you."

"We talked about getting married. You said you wanted to, and it was just a matter of me asking. I would never have asked you in front of anyone if I thought there was a possibility you'd say no because – fuck, Ste – we talked about it!"

"I know," Ste mumbled as he walked further into the room and fell to his knees in front of Mattie and took the doctor's hands in his. "I did want to marry you, Mattie, but you deserve better than me. You deserve to have someone who loves you like you love them, who loves only you."

Mattie laughed mirthlessly and fell back on the bed, so he could stare at the ceiling as he spoke. "Brady, huh. Everyone told me from day one not to get in a relationship with you. That any feelings you have for me would be more likely than not, a mere projection of your feelings for your dead lover."

Fucking Dr Franklin, who fucking knew that Brendan was alive and didn't tell him.

Ste crawled up the bed and lay down beside the man, his back to the bed, but his head turned to face Mattie, who was still looking up ahead at nothing in particular. "That's not true, Mattie. I do love you. I love that you're this complete dork and that you can watch the entire Lord of the Rings in one sitting even if it means drugging yourself up on caffeine. I love that you want your own practice, but you've come to love the people at the clinic like they're your family and don't want to leave them. I love that Daisy and Bob love you like you're their prodigal grandkid. None of those things are a projection of Brendan. That is all you."

Mattie frowned slightly at that and turned his head to look at Ste with an unreadable expression. "Brendan? We were talking about Brady."

Ste sat up and looked down at Mattie, who watched him with piercing eyes. "Mattie, what exactly are you talking about? From the start."

Mattie sat up and looked over Ste's face as if searching for something, maybe to see if Ste was suffering from sadistic tendencies and wants to make him say it all just for funsies. He must've seen the genuine confusion in Ste's face because he started explaining.

"Last week, the first day you were _sick." _He said sick like the words were bitter on his tongue, as if Ste used the word as a euphemism for other debauched activities. "I turned on my computer and when I logged in to my patient records for my first appointment, BB30867's records came on which I know belongs to Brendan. You were the last person in my office, but I didn't think much of it. Even when James was speaking about how Brendan had closed in again and was refusing to talk to him. Then today, when I proposed, you looked like you were about to have a heart attack, and again, I didn't think much because I thought maybe it was just nerves.

"Except then you were distant and you looked like you were at a funeral before you ran off like the devil was on your heels. Bob told me there was nothing to worry about, that maybe you were just checking up on one of the patients that looked like he had stopped breathing at one point and nearly collapsed. When I asked Bob who, well, he only went and described fucking Brendan.

"I laughed it off, told him that it's been a long day and I'm probably going to take you home when you get back. That's when Daisy cracked a joke about us wanting to have sex. But we haven't had sex in a week, and I know that's not abnormal. But things are fishy when you go from having sex all the time to cold turkey. It almost always points to an affair. Sex life increases with the partner when there's a third party, from guilt or something, but when feelings kick in for the third party, sex with the partner almost completely stops. We just got engaged, Ste. But you stopped me when I reached for your pants."

Ste reached out for Mattie, but the doctor dodged the touch and got up off the bed to look out the window, obviously too disgusted to look at Ste. Ste tried to speak, to say that he hadn't been sleeping with Brendan, not at all. But he'd be lying if he said that their sudden increase in sex life had nothing to do with his guilt over his relationship with the dark Brendan. He might not have known that the man was Brady then, but he did still feel guilty that he was thinking about him, yearning for him. And he couldn't deny that he just couldn't get himself to have sex with Mattie when he knew Brendan was out there.

Mattie didn't let him speak, though, opting to get the rest of his own words out. "After Bob and Daisy left, I went to the storage cabinet to get your jacket and guess what I see there?"

Oh shit.

"You don't sculpt anything for years, and when you do, it's of that man." Mattie breathed harshly like he was trying to keep himself conformed through a threat of tears.

"Mattie," Ste whispered, too scared to talk out loud.

Mattie didn't respond to his name, in fact, he acted like he hadn't heard it at all. Ste slowly crawled off the bed, and walked to stand behind the doctor. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and sluggishly turned him around. When Ste saw his face, he realised for the first time since Mattie accused him of cheating that the man actually didn't know who Brendan was. That he really did think Ste was just cheating on him with one of his patient-pupils.

"Brendan is Brady." Ste said gently, watching Mattie's expression evolve from confusion to realisation. "The sleepwalking started when I met him. And he would never speak to me because the only way I would recognise him was through his voice. I knew he was hiding something from me, so I broke into your patient records and I saw there that he had a sister named C. Brady. My Brady had a sister named Cheryl. I still didn't believe it, so I blindfolded myself and made that sculpture from my sense memory of what Brendan looked like." Ste breathed in deeply before he said, "and it was him. Brendan. Right there."

Mattie's face was frozen in shock, his mouth slightly agape. He took a step away from Ste, so the younger man's hand dropped off and fell to his side. Mattie shook his head and frowned like he didn't want to believe what Ste was saying. It was one thing to be supportive over the loss of a dead man, it was another to when it came to the fact that Mattie really could lose him to the man who was no longer just a ghost.

"Brendan Brady." Mattie said as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "You found this out a week ago and you kept leading me on. I fucking proposed to you, Ste."

"I know," Ste said as he reached up and removed Mattie's hands away from his eyes, so he could look the doctor in the eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I could've prevented all this."

"I could ask you what your choice is, but it's never been a choice, has it?" Mattie enquired and Ste didn't answer the question because they both knew what it would be. "Why didn't you break up with me straight away, because it's pretty fucking clear that you don't want to be here right now."

That made Ste angry. "You know, for a fucking psychiatrist, you don't know jack shit about people, about me. It's not as easy as fucking breaking up with you, we have a life together!"

And that was the truth. It wasn't about who Ste was going to choose. It was always going to be Brendan. Even with the engagement, Ste couldn't see himself marrying Mattie without losing his mind. It was the breaking up with Mattie that was the hard part, the executing. He had been with Mattie for a long time. They weren't just passing the time together. They lived together, planned a future together. They had mutual friends and Ste had integrated himself into Mattie's family. Breaking up with Mattie, was breaking away from an entire journey they had made together.

At the root of it was Mattie himself, who he may not love like he loved Brendan, but was an important person to him. To break up with him on the spot after he had learnt of Brendan's survival was not something that was going happen. He had to untangle himself one knot at a time. He hadn't foreseen the proposal and saying yes was to keep Mattie from hurting, as opposed to actually wanting to marry him or having an internal conflict as to who to choose. It was always going to be Brendan, but Ste wasn't a monster, he wasn't about to break Mattie's heart with curious eyes all on them. And Ste couldn't even hate Mattie for putting him on the spot like that, because the doctor was right, there was absolutely no reason why Ste would have said no, when only weeks ago they talked about Ste wanting to be married to him.

"I do fucking love you, Mattie," Ste said in a firm voice. "My love for Brendan is a separate thing, no matter what people fucking say. I dunno, maybe I did originally fall for you because I needed someone to love, but that doesn't mean that it's not real. I know this hurts, Brady – or Brendan – being alive, and I wasn't just going to say, 'Hey Mattie, by the way, that ex of mine that I thought was dead, turns out he isn't, so choke on the dust I leave as I run to him and leave you behind.' No Mattie, I didn't know how to say it to you, because I don't want to fucking hurt you. And now I'm in an even fucking bigger mess, because Brendan thinks I've chosen you over him, and I-"

"And you didn't. You just said yes to save my feelings." Mattie's words were bitter and his eyes were glossed over with a sheen of unshed tears. "Except now, I'm not just losing my boyfriend, but someone who let me believe, even for a second, that we could be something so much more."

Ste growled in frustration and stormed out of the room. He was stuck in every way. Saying no to Mattie in front of everyone would have been an issue, but saying yes has obviously proven to be one too. Ste didn't know what to do with his frustration, so he sort of just threw himself onto the hard sofa and screamed his anger into a couch cushion until his throat hurt and he no longer had the energy. He was breathing heavily into the pillow when a hand was gently on his shoulder and a soft sorry travelled to his ear.

Ste turned his head to look up at Mattie, who was kneeling by the sofa and was looking at him apologetically. "I'm sorry for making this harder than it has to be –"

"Mattie, this was never going to be easy."

Mattie nodded as he glided his hands from over Ste's shoulder to his back where he rubbed soothingly, loosening the tension. "I know. But I know how you are when it comes to Brady or Brendan or whatever the hell. And I know this past week must have been really hard for you, to be here when you want to be with him."

"Mattie –" Ste sighed as he sat up.

Mattie shook his head to signify that he wasn't done talking. "Don't, please don't deny it, because we both know it's true. I've only ever wanted you to be happy, Ste. And yeah, for a while, I thought I could do that. But you never got over Brady when you thought he was dead, and you're never going to get over him now, and to keep you would be to fight for someone who doesn't want to be fought over." Mattie breathed and stood up, "get up."

"What?" Ste frowned.

"I need you out of the house for a little bit, while I pack up my stuff. I can't do it with you here." Mattie's explained and Ste wanted to comfort him, but the man backed away from Ste's touch. "It'll be the perfect chance for you to tell Brendan…" The doctor swallowed down hard like the words were hard for him to say. "To tell him that there's nothing in your way."

Ste didn't sob out loud, he just let his tears fall silently down his face as he stood up and grabbed the front of Mattie's shirt to pull him into a hug, burying his face into the doctor's neck. Mattie didn't hesitate to hold him back, tight and close. He told Ste that he loved him, loved him so fucking much and he always would. That he got it, that he didn't want Ste to be upset over them because he all he ever wanted was to make him better. Ste had died with Brendan over three years ago, and Mattie could spend all his life trying to make him feel alive, but it's only Brendan who had the power to bring him back.

When Ste finally let Mattie go, it was much later. Mattie had spent however long trying to appease him, convince him that there was nothing to feel bad about. That was bullshit, Ste was always going to feel bad about this, no matter how understanding Mattie was. But when the doctor put him into a cab, kissed him goodbye on the forehead, and told him to go home, Ste never looked back.

* * *

**A/N:** Normally i don't comment on your comments, because they're all wonderful and i love you all so much for it. Reviews are love, okay. Shows me, I'm not wasting my time. Anyway, i just wanted to clear something up...

I was **not** writing a love triangle in which Ste doesn't know who to choose. Brendan was always going to be it. What i tried to do was relay human emotions in a realistic manner. Yeah, i know, the love of your life popping up from the dead after three years isn't realistic, but that's why i have to get realism through emotions. Ste was with Mattie for a long time, longer than Brendan, and realistically - from my observations of human mentality, anyway - i just can't see anyone breaking up with someone they've been together with for a long time just like that. Ste has become emotionally co-dependent with Mattie because he was the one that picked him up when shit got heavy, and take it from someone who has seen codependency in its most dysfunctional state, unattaching yourself can be one of the most painful things ever, on both ends (hence Ste going cray cray when he had to unattach himself from Brendan). Ste's struggles to break up with Mattie isn't because he doesn't know who to choose, but because he doesn't know how to break up with him with minimal hurt. As for the yes to the proposal, if Ste can't get himself to hurt Mattie by breaking up with him, what are the chances that he's going to humiliate him?

Sorry for the monologue, but there you go, that's off my chest.


	20. Golden Blue

You know, i can't even remember the last time I updated. But seriously, if you're still reading this, I love you, i love you, i love you. This is the final chp, but I'll have an epilogue soon (I don't know what soon means). Anyhow, enjoy my lovelies. :)

* * *

**Chapter 20**

It was often the case that when you wanted to be somewhere, there tended to be a million obstacles in the way slowing you down. Ste remembered Michaela from secondary school, who told him about this one time when she was in London and on the underground trains, how someone jumped in front of one. She told him that next to no one cared about the fact that someone was dead, because it was eight forty-five in the morning and the person who just died was going to make them late for work. Ste felt like that one time when he and Mattie had been driving to work and some poor bastard got hit by car, and all he could think about was the fact that they were both going to be uber late for their first sessions of the day.

That didn't happen this time. Even the traffic lights were cooperating as the cab drove through the golden lit streets, back to the hospital. However, unlike all those times when he wanted to be somewhere, he wished there had been a couple of obstacles. He didn't want anyone to have died on the road on his way there – when it wasn't a slow, drizzly morning where the sun was even too lazy to make a proper appearance, Ste did appreciate the horrors of someone actually dying in the streets – but maybe a traffic light could have stayed red a little longer than a split second.

He did want to see Brendan. Like a fucking lot. But this was big. If Brendan actually listened to him, Ste could have everything he didn't even allow himself to dream of. Back when they were initially together and Brendan was going through his whole courting process, Ste was blind and was convinced he was going to die. He couldn't have it then. After, he got his sight back and a few decades added to his life expectancy, but Brendan was gone. He couldn't have it then either. But they had a real chance now, and Ste just, he just needed to catch his breath, stop psyching himself out.

They were in front of the hospital all too soon, but when Ste paid for the cab, stepped one foot into the building, it wasn't soon enough. He launched himself to where the elevators were, but when they took too long and his patience ran out, he nearly burnt the rubber on the soles of his trainers as he ran six floors up the stairs. His thighs protested and his heart rattled his rib cage as it thumped faster and faster, harder and harder. He wasn't sure if it was from the effort of climbing the stairs so quickly, or if something innate in him just knew that he was closer to Brendan.

The sixth floor was mostly dark with only dimply lit lamps illuminating the hallways. The main glass door in the elevator and stairs area was open during the day, but at night they closed it up, and Ste's staff card didn't allow him access to these doors after hours. Ste felt his stomach drop at the fact that he couldn't see Brendan after all, and to be honest, he had nowhere else to go. He didn't want to face Mattie yet, not when everything was so raw.

He nearly gave up, nearly spun on his heels and was going to go sleep in his classroom or something. Except, someone slowly opened the door and gave him a small sleepy smile.

"Hey Ste, what are you doing here?" It was a night nurse that Ste recognised as Cleo.

They weren't really friends, so he couldn't tell her that he was there to beg the love of his life to take him back. He just ran a hand through his hair and painted a sheepish smile on his face. "I'm so sorry, but I think I lost something here and I'm freaking out."

"Oh," Cleo smiled and opened the door wider for Ste to step through. "What did you lose, I can help you look. It'll give me something to do during the most boring graveyard shift ever."

Ste gave her a tired chuckle and lethargically shook his head, "I think I know where I put it, don't worry about it."

Cleo just nodded like she was only half listening and then went back to the nurses' station where he could see The Notebook paused on the computer screen. Ste inwardly sighed with relief, because if she was lost in Ryan Gosling's eyes, she wouldn't notice Ste going into one of the patients' room. He left her to it there, her feet on the desk and her hand buried in a packet of Doritos.

He walked to Brendan's room as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up all the other patients by how he normally dragged his feet a little when he moved. Brendan's door was closed, which meant that Yvonne must have trusted the older man's stability enough to take him off suicide watch. That or Brendan either threatened her into closing the door.

Ste turned the door knob and opened it a mere inch before he cringed at the creaking noise it made. With all the fancy crap this clinic did and had, he thought they'd bloody oil a door once in a while. From the sliver he could see, the room inside was dim, and much like the rest of the floor only lit up by a lamp throwing a sleepy sort of serenity across the vicinity.

"Who's there?" A hoarse voice said, ripping through the calm and making Ste jump the slightest before he pushed the door open all the way to reveal Brendan sitting up on his bed with a book in his hand.

"You're up?" Ste whispered, wanting to not draw Cleo's attention while the door was still open. But he wasn't going to close it, not until Brendan let him in, invited him in.

"You're here?" Brendan retorted and it wasn't bitter, just sort of confused.

"Yeah, I – uh, I – I'm here." Ste stuttered as he still stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, ready to close it on his way out if that was what Brendan wanted.

Brendan's gaze swept over him, or dragged really, Ste could feel the sweep of it as it travelled along from his eyes to his toes, then back again. "Come in and shut the door then."

If Ste hadn't exhausted himself crying earlier, the relief of Brendan inviting him in would've had him melting into a puddle on the floor. That being said, the older man didn't seem like he was about to bound off the bed, had he the ability, and wrap his arms around Ste. There was still an atmosphere of, not distrust, but a wariness in the air. It was as if maybe Brendan was thinking that Ste was only here to break it to him gently, to persuade him that they weren't meant to be, that they might have been it in another time, another place.

Ste cautiously took a step forward, but stopped when Brendan flinched back a little, perhaps afraid that Ste's emotional blow would be just as hard as a physical one. Ste took a deep breath and counted to ten before he released it and carried on forward, ignoring the way the older man sat up straighter and dropped his book to his lap from shaky hands. Ste dragged the chair in the room and positioned it next to Brendan's bedside, then sat down and opened his mouth.

Silence. That was the only thing that came out of his mouth, because nothing seemed like it was enough. _I love you_ was so over said, the three words didn't seem like they could do justice. They couldn't express the enormity of what he was feeling, what he wanted to say. _We can finally be together_ seemed like Ste was doing Brendan a favour when it was Ste that was the one who was getting everything he ever dreamed of… that was if Brendan took him. _I broke up with Mattie_ was false, he didn't break up with Mattie, the doctor broke up with him because he was too much of a coward. So the pregnant silence it was.

Brendan didn't force him to say anything. He didn't even raise an eyebrow to suggest he get a move on. In fact, he didn't even look at Ste. He just stared at his lap and used the thumb of one hand to rub the knuckles of the other, soft first, but then harder and harder until the skin turned a vicious pink. Ste was hardly aware of his movement before he clasped the older man's hands, ceasing the assault. Brendan still didn't look up, but his eyes focused a little more and zeroed in where they touched.

"Brady."

The name cracked the shell the older man had created around himself and he gently shook his head as he flipped his hand around so they were palm to palm and gripped on hard, painfully so. "Don't. Don't call me that."

"Why not? I thought you would have missed it a little all this time."

Brendan dragged in a harsh breath of air and slipped his hands out from under Ste's before he dragged them down his face. "I met a 21 year old kid almost four years ago. He was stubborn and mouthy and cocky and I fell for him so fucking hard, even though he told me he was never going to love me. Even though I promised him I would never love him too. But I did, so much. He saw nothing and he saw everything. He saw something in me enough to love, because despite how much he tried not to, he loved me back. He never said it, but I knew." Brady lifted his head up and looked towards Ste, the white of his eyes intruded with shots of blood. "That kid called me Brady, and I can't have that be you, not if I have to lose you."

A choked sob escaped Ste's mouth before he found himself climbing onto the bed. His knees were either side of Brendan, their foreheads touching. He didn't rest his weight on the older man, rather he slightly hovered over his lap, fully aware that Brendan was still healing. He just, he needed to be as close as possible, smell the cinnamon straight from the source instead of the linger it left in the room, the ghost.

"You're not gonna lose me, not ever. That kid was kidding himself when he said he'd never love you, because he was screwed from day one. The way you were so persistent, the way you let him dream of a future when he thought he was going to die." Ste wrapped his hands around the older man's jaw and rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive skin of the cheekbones. "Bren, when I thought I lost you, I lost my mind. You made me believe in life, and when you were gone, I stopped believing too."

Brendan opened his mouth to say something, probably rebut the statement, and say something stupid like Ste deserved more than him or he wasn't good enough. It was the self-sacrificial crap that was common in Brendan's vocabulary, so Ste didn't give him the chance. He darted forward and slipped the older man's bottom lip between his. There was nothing fervent about the kiss, just soft skin on skin that set his skin on fire. He felt the flutter of Brendan's lashes against his cheeks as they closed at the touch, and between them, he felt the rapid beats in their chests, thumbing against one another.

He pulled away just the slightest, the thin skin of their lips clinging at the separation, as Brendan whispered with his eyes still closed, "what about… what about him?"

"He deserves to be happy, he deserves to have someone who loves him completely, for someone to love him the way I love you. That person just won't be me."

Brendan slowly opened his eyes, and the blue of his irises was so deep, so fucking blue, Ste had to blink to make sure they were real. The black hair in contrast with the pale skin, the ethereal eyes, they were all just things myths were made of. The older man used to continuously tell him he was beautiful, and now Ste wondered if perhaps he ever looked in the mirror, because it was only there that he'd find the true meaning of the word.

"You're it for me, Brendan Brady, you always have been," Ste promised, his heart leaping when Brendan's mouth quirked up on one corner. The older man leaned forward to kiss him again, but Ste pulled away and placed a finger to the Brendan's lips, a small frown tugging at his brows. "Wait, do you have a middle name, because you know, this whole debacle could've been avoided had I known your full name."

Brendan snorted out a laugh and shook his head in amusement, "there were a million times I wanted to tell you my first name, but you insisted that you weren't special enough in my life to call me that."

"Am I? You stopped trying to tell me after a while." Ste asked in a way that he hoped was jokey, but probably revealed the true extent of his insecurity.

"Number eight."

"Number eight?"

"On your list, Number eight: save a life."

Ste frowned at that, not understanding, but Brendan just smiled sweetly and kissed the frown away.

"You saved mine. The doctors were convinced I wouldn't last a week in the coma, but I fought, I fought three years for you. I wouldn't be here if there was no you."

Ste didn't know what to say to that, he always considered Brendan to have saved his. He didn't think that maybe they saved each other.

"Number seven." Ste said, knowing Brendan would understand.

"Conquer a fear."

Ste nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "I was so scared of living, of loving, because I was too preoccupied with dying. You brought me to life. I – we fucking danced in the rain, Bren, I tasted the sea."

"Yeah," Brendan smiled widely, his expression clearly illustrating the fact that he was recalling the memory. The cold water of the sea, the way Ste had sworn to kill him for forcing him into that pool of pneumonia. And the music when they danced, tarmac beneath their feet, their hands clinging to one another, closer than their wet clothes.

"So where do we go from here?" Ste asked, when they fell into a calm of memories.

"I'm going nowhere with you top of me. I'm a fragile human being, and you've always been heavier than you look."

"Shut up," Ste laughed, but the sound was lost when Brendan's lips closed over his. It wasn't the same as kissing Brendan all those years ago. His mouth was still just as hot, and his lips just as soft. But the beard that the older man now sported was soft against his skin, and a lot more erotic than he would ever admit to anyone, with the way it brushed his skin. But more than the physical changes, the kiss was a lot more… content. All those years ago, they both took like they were living their last day. Mainly, because there was the very chance that it possibly was. They kissed like there was no tomorrow,

Now?

Now they kissed like time was frozen and they had the rest of eternity.

Brendan's tongue slipped from between his mouth and glided across Ste's bottom lip before the younger man opened his mouth and allowed the older man in. Their tongues slid against one another, but Brendan's started to explore, it skimmed over his teeth, the inside of his cheeks, the length of his tongue before gently sucking on it. He bit Ste's bottom lip, nibbled, before sliding it into his mouth and drawing all the blood to the surface. All the while, his hands softly lay at Ste's waist, never once venturing further.

Ste was determined to change that. His hands travelled down from the older man's face, where he had still held on to Brendan's jaw, and skimmed them over the velvet skin of his neck before journeying down the man's chest. Brendan's shivered at the contact but he still kept everything PG rated.

"Brendan," Ste breathed heavily, backing away. "Is something wrong because –"

"There's nothing wrong –"

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I just, I don't want to marry him, but I couldn't –"

"Hey, hey," now it was Brendan's turn to lay his hands gently on Ste's jaw to keep him looking at the older man's eyes. "Steven, there is nothing you can do that would make me stop loving you. Nothing."

"Then, why… why won't you…?" He didn't need to finish the question, the little glint in Brendan's eyes told Ste that older man knew exactly where he was going with this.

"I can't have sex with you, Steven. I want to, but – and forgetting the fact that we have no supplies – I'll probably break. When I fell, my skin literally became a bag to contain my shattered bones." Brendan spoke like it was no big deal, but Ste winced at the imagery, anyway. "Hey, no, I just, I'm still healing. My bones are solid again, but everything is extremely rusty, I'll probably snap."

Ste nodded stiffly and started to climb off the bed, allowing Brendan's hands to fall from his face as he did. He wasn't upset, but he seriously needed to stop straddling the man if he had to resist mounting him. He didn't get far, not when a warm, calloused hand wrapped around his wrists and he looked up to see distressed eyes.

"Where are you going?" Brendan asked, desperation thick in his words.

"I – nowhere. I just, I didn't want to break you."

Then tension visibly left Brendan's shoulder as he relaxed and allowed himself to smile. "Stay. Here, I mean. Stay tonight."

Ste didn't even need time to think he just nodded, took off his shoes and jacket, then climbed under the covers while Brendan shuffled to a side. The clinic's beds weren't single, but they weren't a normal double either, so it was a tight fit for two grown men. They didn't need a large amount of space though. Not when Brendan lay down on his back and Ste slotted himself perfectly around the man, his head on the thumping chest beneath his ears. Brendan brought his arm around Ste, beneath him and around till he could thread his fingers through Ste's hair. With his free hand, he interlinked their fingers together to mirror the way their legs were tangled.

"I could give you a blow job, that doesn't take much work on your side," Ste mumbled against Brendan's t-shirt. He felt the rumble in Brendan's belly and chest, before he heard the throaty laughter escape the man's chest.

"Thank you," Brendan chuckled. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"That wasn't you leaping at the chance."

"Yeah," Brendan said, his words going a little distant as if he was remembering something. "When I thought about you and me, I thought about the nights we stayed up talking till dawn after doing whatever. I wanted that. I wanted your voice to fill up the silence, the void."

Ste turned his head and kissed the older man's cloth covered chest, "you're such a sap."

Brendan snorted, but he didn't deny it. "Don't get me wrong, I want the D. I want it all night long. But I'd rather break the bed, than break my back from a sudden jerk."

Ste laughed at that, and yeah, Brendan was right. He did miss this too. Them being more than lovers, being best friends too. There wasn't a day or a specific moment when Ste fell in love with him. It wasn't an epiphany. It was the dancing in the rain. Their fingers laced together as it pressed against dirt. It was the phone calls Brendan made to buy sold out concert tickets and to bring a father to his son. It was holding Ste close as the currents in the sea tugged at him. Over late night talks, the laughs, the tears, the tantrums. The smiles he felt against his lips, the skin behind his ear, on his nape, the smile he knew was only for him.

"Seamus," Brendan suddenly said, breaking Ste out of his thoughts. "My middle name used to be Seamus. It was my father's name, I got rid of it when I turned 18."

Ste didn't say anything for a moment. He knew the history. The abuse Brendan went through at the hands of his father, the homophobia, the belittlement. Brendan had told him in one of those late nights when the darkness of Ste's bedroom and the warmth of Ste's arms created a safe haven for the older man.

"Good," Ste finally said. "Brendan Brady is kind of a badass name. Brendan Seamus Brady sounds like someone's granddad."

"Maybe I'll be a granddad one day," Brendan replied, not missing a beat.

Ste smiled serenely into the dark, "maybe I will be too."

They stayed like that for countless hours, speaking softly about things they've missed out on. Brendan told him stories about Christopher, his nephew, and how the kid was beyond spoilt, but Brendan adored him anyway. Ste told him about Amy, Tony and the trio. How Amy was in Manchester now, Tony's twins were turning into heartbreakers, and plot twist, Thayer and Casey had started dating about a year ago and now they were engaged.

Brendan had put money on Thayer and Daniele all those years ago, and Ste was just convinced that Thayer was too obnoxious for anyone to actually date him. Daniele had her eyes on a cute little doctor that had just moved in to Hollyoaks, but Ste didn't think that was going to last. Then again, he wrongfully assumed he knew anything about Thayer.

So they carried on talking until they fell into a comfortable lull, and Brendan called his name, "Steven."

"Hmm, yeah?"

"Look."

Ste looked away from the thread he was playing with at Brendan's collar and turned his head to the rest of the room where Brendan was looking. The space looked like it had been dipped in reds and golds and oranges, liquid light crawling over everything. Brendan shuffled out from under Ste and climbed over him to retrieve his crutches from beside the bed, before hauling himself up. When he was stable, he held out his hand, inviting Ste to take it.

Ste gently slipped his hands into the older man's and got up off the bed, making sure not to put pressure on Brendan as he did. Together, they walked over to the window that looked out towards a scenic view of mountains so tall, there was snow at the top, and peek from right behind it was the unmistakable glow of a sunrise. It painted the sky in colours Ste had never seen before, never appreciated before. Golden light blending in with blue residue of the night, reds swimming side by side with purples and pinks.

"Number ten," Brendan whispered, looking out in awe. "It's so beautiful."

Ste turned to look at Brendan, his eyes reflecting the sunrise, his pale face aglow.

"Yeah, it really is."

* * *

_Yes, i know, there was no reunion smut. But writing sex takes a lot of internal energy that i just lack right now. This is why there will be an epilogue, so you can have all the boning you can handle. _


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